


Psalms 91:11

by Ookami_Hime



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Religious, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Cliffhangers, Dean/Cas Big Bang Challenge 2014, F/M, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-20
Updated: 2014-11-20
Packaged: 2018-02-25 04:04:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2607803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ookami_Hime/pseuds/Ookami_Hime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>“Dean Winchester had been four when the skies tore open and servant upon servant of heaven crashed down onto the planet. Over the decades, that afternoon had become somewhat of a blur, but he could remember, before his father shoved his six-month-old baby brother into Dean’s arms and shielded them both with his body, how he wished for an awesome new bike for his birthday on--what he believed at the time to be--shooting stars.”</i><br/> </p><p> </p><p>Heaven decided that the Earth needed to be ruled over with an iron fist, but some of the humans haven’t taken too well to that. John Winchester never did until he died. He and people all across the globe have led resistance movements against the angels. Dean, on the other hand, wants to stay out of it.</p><p>Trouble comes knocking on the door, though, when he’s accused of taking up John’s mantle and leading the resistance movement in Lawrence. An angel, Castiel, is ordered to watch Dean and decide whether or not he actually is involved.<br/>As it always happens with the Winchesters, shit eventually hits the fan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Introduction No One Wants

**Author's Note:**

> Shit, son, I never ever believed that I would be able to make it to this point. Seriously, when I signed up for the DCBB way back yonder, the first thing I said to myself was, "fuck, man, I'm never gonna finish this," but I did. I actually really did this. Of course that doesn't mean it's not shit, but, that's up to y'all to decide. Now, see, I just didn't have enough time to finish the whole thing all at once (mostly because I procrastinated, but also because I think that'd be way too much for one story, y'know?), so I planned back when I finished it to have a sequel. I'm not exactly in the fandom anymore, but I still love the characters and people I've met, so I'll make a sequel. I swear I will. Okay, well, that actually depends on how well people like this...  
> Anyway, I have to do some dedications because, seriously, without these people I never would've made it. So, there's my best friend, [Sarah](http://www.sarahobryant.tumblr.com), who sat with me throughout all the writing-induced tears and rants even when she doesn't watch Supernatural or read or write fanfic. That's when you know they're a true friend, kiddos. Then there's the beautiful [Michaela](http://www.kneki.tumblr.com) who literally agreed to be this random ass person's beta and helped get me moving when I got stuck and god I love her. Oh, and then there's [Pat](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/1007160/BadKatPat) who, again, ain't even in the Supernatural fandom, but helped a bitch out and kicked my ass into gear. Finally, I gotta thank my sweet baby doll [Inka](http://www.http://ghostantine.tumblr.com) who created the lovely art you're about to lay your eyes on. Behind all iffy writers are super duper amazing artists and friends. ;v;  
> Well, I'm not gonna take much more time ranting. Can you believe I was actually gonna do a Frozen!au? I don't even know how that transformed into a dystopian!au, but here we are. There's some pining!Dean and some makeout, but nothing more serious than that, really. If you're here for smut, you're gonna have to wait until the sequel babes.  
> Art Masterpost [On Tumblr](http://ghostantine.tumblr.com/post/103128176127/title-psalms-91-11) or [On LJ](http://dizimart.livejournal.com/2032.html)  
> I love y'all so much! Feel free to come hit me up at my [tumblr!](http://www.seraphicsteve.tumblr.com) <3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter here, we call it the prologue. You don't want to read it because you want the Dean/Cas interaction already, but you have to read it anyway because it provides essential background information.

_"For he shall give his angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways."_

**_Psalms 91:11_ **

 

 

 

Dean Winchester had been four when the skies tore open and servant upon servant of heaven crashed down onto the planet. Over the decades, that afternoon had become somewhat of a blur, but he could remember, before his father shoved his six-month-old baby brother into Dean's arms and shielded them both with his body, how he wished for an awesome new bike for his birthday on, what he believed at the time to be, shooting stars.

 

As much as he had hoped at the time, what fell to Earth hadn't been shooting stars or a meteor shower or any other scrap of a scientific theory. Hours after the first wave, they approached governments across the world and all claimed the exact same thing: _angels_.

 

History would forever mark that day as The Crash and, yeah, history really needed to come up with cooler, more original names for shit. The more faithful people would mark The Crash as the day that God blessed the Earth and other shittier religious people would probably mark it as the day they finally had the chance to say told you so to all the non-believers out there. But the Winchester household would always mark it as the day that some celestial asshole crashed into their house and burned it, along with Mary Winchester inside, to the ground.

 

From what Dean had learned from years of mandated school—because no one could just _drop out_ anymore—The Holy Year had been the best for humanity. Petty human problems such as disease and pollution were cleaned up and the nasty human conflicts immediately ended because who the hell wanted to argue with beings that literally crashed to Earth and didn't bat an eye about it? Those who had no faith before The Crash had flocked to churches in order to repent for their ignorance and the religious had fallen to their knees to worship the gods among mere mortals.

 

John never spoke much about The Holy Year to Dean, but Dean could remember how everyone would tell his father to have faith when he demanded justice after Mary's death. _Faith_ , John would scoff years later. He always told Dean that people should've had less faith, shouldn't have bowed like they did, because the angels liked it a little too much.

 

The politically—rather, the celestially—correct term for the year that angels claimed humans needed a " _firmer hand_ " to make the world as their Father wanted it to be is Year Six. Under the radar, most people just called it Year 666 because by firm hand, the angels meant that they wanted to take over the world and put themselves at the top of the food chain. What was that old saying? Never trust a pretty face because the devil used to be an angel before he fell?

 

Garrisons were stationed across the world, policed humans to make sure they were as holy as possible, and when people rioted...well, the riots never lasted that long. Dean had been ten and he remembered how he covered Sam's eyes when scenes of all the bloodshed and violence and bright angelic lights splashed across every station on the television.

 

John had murmured, "I told them, but no one listened." Then, he holed himself up in his room and almost drank himself into a coma.


	2. Castiel Can Make You Scream (Not In A Good Way)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Look, you have to make it through a thousand more words and then you finally get the Dean/Cas. And what's even better? Castiel comes to live with Dean...but not in the way you're thinking.

The sun blazed down on—well, what used to be called—Kansas and the sleek, black vehicle that tore down the open road. Not much was spoken between the three men that consisted of two brothers and one, surly older man with his trademarked trucker hat because not much needed to be said, so Metallica was used to fill the silence. Other than the usual banter of public service announcements, music had essentially died out when the angels took control, so Dean all but worshiped the tapes his father left behind in the Impala. It reminded him of warm days in the car, when they had the windows down, and his mother and father would banter back and forth with each other while Dean played with baby Sam in his car seat.

 

"Pastor Jim stopped by the other day," the oldest between them spoke up from the back seat and Dean knew exactly where their conversation was headed. "Wanted me to ask y'all if you wanted to head up the resistance, but I told him if he wanted to know, he'd have to ask himself." Bobby explained.

 

Most humans had rolled over for the heavenly host, but there were resistance movements across the world. From what little information they received from public service announcements, those who rebelled against the heavenly hierarchy were sometimes able to kill off a few angels before they were discovered and removed, but it was never enough to make a dent in the angelic population or cure the world of the angels. Dean didn't think humans would ever make a dent as long as he was alive. Maybe in the future, but not with how the world was now, it seemed. And because resistance movements never lasted since people feared their angelic oppressors or since they were forcefully ended in bloodshed, one of the few times that Dean had ever screamed at his father was when he found out that John had formed a group of people to resist the angels.

 

"Sell my soul to a demon to learn a few tricks to one-up the angels?" Dean scoffed from behind the wheel and shook his head. "No thanks, Bobby. Pass that on to Pastor Jim, too. Don't want him to waste his breath," he said with a scowl.

 

"Pastor says that you won't have to sell your soul." Bobby shot back calmly despite the obvious hostility in Dean's voice. "They already have enough intel to take out the angels. But people are losing their nerve now that your old man is dead and the Pastor says it'll boost morale if you show up."

 

"Answer's still the same," Dean huffed.

No one knew when the demons started to show up on Earth, but one day, public service announcements popped up and informed citizens that, should they ever learn about a demon's presence, they should either contact a professional hunter (like Dean, Sam, and Bobby), a church, or an angel if they're near one. From what Dean learned over the years, demons and angels had this intense hatred for each other and, no matter how much he swore they had some hidden agenda, people trusted demons enough to take information from them about the angels. People must've assumed that since demons didn't rule the world— _yet_ , his mind supplied—there wasn't that much issue to trust them. The old enemy of my enemy is my friend chestnut, he assumed, even if to have information about angelic weaknesses or weapons to capture or kill angels, resistance leaders had to sell their souls.

 

Dean never knew the name of the demon his father sold his soul to, only knew the hellhound that came to rip his father apart piece-by-piece when his ten years were up. And the only scrap of information that Dean could hassle out of John was that it had yellow eyes and that was about it. John purposely told no one about the exact date his deal would be up, so when they were on a hunt for some spook, he stumbled away into the woods and by the time Dean heard the screams, it was too late.

 

John had been dead for four years and Pastor Jim, who had become second-in-command of the resistance movement in the wake of John's death, continued to hound Dean and Sam about joining up with them. Someone would think they would take a hint after four years, but they tried and tried again. A few other people close to his father had stopped by, such as Tara who'd even stooped so low as to say, "if your daddy could see you now." Dean may or may not have slammed the door in her face because he never asked for what John put on him and Sam. Ever since he found out his father started a resistance movement in Kansas, Dean would lay awake at night sometimes, unable to sleep because he knew angels would come after them at some point. The angels had taken enough from them, he wanted to scream at his father and the people of the resistance, why couldn't they leave it alone? The world could've turned out a lot shittier.

 

"Well, I told the good Pastor that I'd try and I did, so that's that." Bobby commented and yeah, Dean was happy that at least someone didn't push him to join the movement. Bobby and Ellen supported Dean's decision to stay out of the way of the hurricane that was surely headed the movement's way. Dean just hoped they'd take the hint and get out before it was too late.

 

The brunette, who had been in a constant state of happiness ever since Jessica said yes to his proposal, decided to try and pick up the mood. "Does anybody want to talk about how a pastor is trying to take down the angels? Kind of ironic, isn't it?" he shook his head.

 

Rather than talk about Pastor Jim more, Dean decided to not comment. "Put in some Ozzy, man." If anyone had a problem with the change of subject, no one said a word about it.

 

***

 

Whoever their anonymous tipper was, they had some pretty accurate information. As the Impala pulled up in front of the farmhouse located on the outskirts of Lawrence, there were various vehicles all parked underneath tree branches—as if that would hide them from angels. If there was anyone lower than humans on the totem pole, it had to be all the supernatural nasties. After the whole world domination came into play and once certain humans had been tasked to be professional hunters, monsters weren't safe—even in the dark.

 

As the three men hovered around the trunk and readied their supplies, Dean noticed how uncomfortably quiet it was around the area. It may have been because it was the middle of the afternoon and everyone inside the house was dead to the world, but there wasn't much more noise across the farmland. No animals squeaked or chirped, no breeze blew across the field, and he swore he smelt...smoke?

 

"Your work is not needed here."

 

It took a hell of a lot of willpower not to panic at the sudden appearance of angels because the only time they ever showed up on a hunt was to take out a demon that humans couldn't handle. And since one of them informed them that their work wasn't needed...it could only mean they showed up to have a chat about the resistance movement. Now, Bobby may have not pushed them into it, but that didn't make him any less of a member and just because he was part of the movement, that didn't make him any less Dean and Sam's adoptive father. So wrapped up in the movement, John had pretty much shoved his sons onto Bobby—and Ellen and Jo, later on—whenever he had the chance to and they'd come to love him so much that Dean would die to keep him kicking one more day. So, Dean spun around on his heel, machete clenched in hand, as if that would help if the angels decided to attack. Sure, he would die, but at least he wouldn't have to watch another father die because angels have some kind of complex or whatever possessed them to take over the world.

 

There were two of them—a bulky, dark-skinned man that looked like he was in desperate need of a stick pulled out of his ass and a scrawny, dark-haired, blue-eyed man that probably should have stayed up in the clouds behind his desk. Shove them in the middle of a crowd and they could blend in easily, but the twin blank expressions on their faces and the sharp, black suits hinted at their otherworldly nature.

 

"These mud monkeys are more disrespectful than the others." The bulkier of the two sneered. "Usually, we're bowed to when we appear."

 

Dean could see Sam out of the corner of his eye and the way he had to hold back the trademark bitch face—a result probably from the insult and the fact that Dean was about to shoot his fat mouth off to the angel. Man, Sam knew him too well, really, because that's what Dean planned to do had the nerdy one not spoken up before him.

 

“Uriel,” his deep voice demanded to be obeyed, “there's no need for them to do that in our presence. We are not to be worshiped. That is for our Father.”

 

“You're too lenient on them, Castiel.” Uriel shot back heatedly, but let it end there.

 

Castiel must have been the superior between the two, Dean figured as Castiel turned back to look at the three humans. “You are Dean and Sam Winchester—the sons of John Winchester. Is that correct?”

 

Rather than let Dean's mouth end their lives, Sam spoke up on their account. “Yes sir. I'm Sam and this is my older brother, Dean.”

 

“Nice to meet you,” Dean smiled wryly.

 

Castiel nodded so the insult must have went over his head completely and Uriel's constant expression of pissed would probably stay there no matter what so Dean had no idea if he understood the sarcasm—but the lack of death on his part pretty much told it all.

 

"What can we do for you fellas?" Bobby asked and even he attempted to be civil, too.

 

"Uriel and I came to speak with you about your father." Castiel explained as he looked directly at the two brothers. "Please explain to us the circumstances of his death in as much detail as you can spare."

 

The dude was pretty polite for a dick at the top of the food chain, Dean thought irritably. "Why do you want to know about him now? The old man died four years ago." He snapped.

 

"Listen to me, you worthless, hairless ape," Uriel seethed, "we don't have to explain our reasons to you. You can either tell us about your father's death or you will be forced to tell us about it." Then he smirked. "Personally, I'd prefer you choose the latter."

 

"Bet you would, princess," Sam stomped down onto Dean's foot and he hissed in pain, but recovered in front of the two creatures. "Fine, okay, whatever," he huffed then explained that, "we were after a daeva, but we were stuck in some pretty thick woods and it got the jump on my old man. Got any other questions?"

 

Castiel showed no interest to answer that question, but Uriel was still upset about Dean's mouth and went ahead and answered. "We know your father was involved with a resistance movement in this area. We know this," he drawled, "because your father is in hell and they can hear his screams even in heaven. So, would you like to correct your story or is a daeva still responsible?"

 

"Stop." Castiel commanded and, after he sent Uriel a look that even made Dean take a cautious step back, looked over toward the brothers with an apologetic, almost sad look. "You weren't supposed to know that." He told them, but it wasn't like neither of them knew where their father ended up.

 

"My old man wasn't perfect, but, hey, who is? Never sold his soul, if that's what you think," Dean paused and sent them a look. "He wasn't exactly the poster boy for having faith, though. Don't you guys preach about people going to hell if they don't have faith in the Lord or whatever?"

 

There was a shared look between the two before they vanished from sight, the only sound being the rustle of their invisible wings.

 

***

 

A heavy, tense silence had fallen between the three men as they drove back to Lawrence and it wasn't until they were parked in front of the house that Bobby shared with Ellen and Jo that someone finally talked about the earlier incident. Before Bobby was out of the Impala, Dean turned around in his seat to fix the older hunter with a hard stare. "You better tell Pastor Jim what happened today. If they know about Dad, then they'll know about all of you soon enough—if they already don't." He warned. "Don't meet up for a while. Keep your noses down. Just keep your mouths shut. I don't want to lose you, Ellen, and Jo over this."

 

Bobby apparently didn't appreciate his tone because he shot a scowl back at Dean. "For someone that doesn't want to be in charge, you sure do know how to bark orders." He rolled his eyes and slid out of the car. "See y'all soon, idjits."

 

"Grumpy old man!" Dean yelled before Bobby had the door shut.

 

When they pulled back onto the street, some of the tension bled away from Sam's shoulders. And since it was his duty as an older brother to know as much about Sam as possible, he knew the brunet itched to see his bride-to-be. So, being the awesome big brother that he was, Dean made sure to press down on the pedal a little harder. It wasn't like there was a police officer to pull him over. No one ever caused trouble anymore because there was always some religious nut to pray and bring down the real law enforcement.

 

In no time at all, they arrived at the old Winchester home that had been rebuilt a year or two after Mary died—Dean could never remember the exact date, just knew that he had been little when he went back home and that he cried a lot because his mother wasn't there to tuck him in anymore. The new house had been consolation for their house, but it'd made John even more upset than before because that was all they got for the loss of Mary's life—a _house_? Ever since Jessica moved in, the house had brightened up a lot more, though, and he hoped that, one day, Sam and Jessica would kick him out and that the pitter-patter of tiny feet would storm the halls again. Their mother and father would have loved that.

 

Sam ran ahead to the kitchen where Jessica was and Dean allowed them one minute to kiss, make out, have sex—whatever they needed get out of their system even though they had literally seen each other that same morning. They were in the honeymoon phase and weren't even married yet, and while Dean tapped his foot impatiently, he wondered how much worse it'd be _after_ they were married. He was sure more than a minute had passed when Jessica poked her head out of the kitchen and beamed at him as she slowly moved a pie into view.

 

"Oh, God," Dean moaned and, while one hand reached to take the pie, slid an arm around her shoulders. "I did tell you that you are way too awesome for my little brother, didn't I?" He kissed the side of her head. "You're the best, Jess. How'd you score this?"

 

Much to Dean's dismay, it was a lot harder than it used to be to have a slice of pie. Sure, Lawrence had a nice population, but it was nowhere near the size of cities on the east coast. It was poorer compared to those places and the pie was pretty damn expensive—any sweets were, honestly. Factories that processed fatty foods had pretty much died out, so it was mostly farms that supplied the nation's organic, healthy rabbit food. So, anyone that could make a pie out of what was left made sure that they were paid well and, unfortunately, a professional hunter's salary couldn't make it.

 

"The Archbishop came into the hospital today because he thought he was having a heart attack and he said I was so sweet that he wanted to treat me and my family." The blonde informed as she snatched the pie away from him. "And we," she stressed the word and motioned around to the three of them, "are going to enjoy it after we eat dinner. You're not hogging the whole thing, Dean."

 

"Aw, c'mon, do you and Sam really want to ruin your girlish figures?"

 

"Don't make me kick you in the—"

 

"Million dollar question," the brunet leaned against the counter cut them off, "who loves pie more? Dean or Jess?" he asked and dodged the smack that his fiancée aimed at him.

 

Jessica rolled her eyes. "Someone tell me why I agreed to marry into this family?"

 

"Because you love me," Sam and Dean answered at the same time. It had been unintentional, but it made her smile fondly at them nonetheless.

 

***

 

It had been a few weeks since the brothers cleaned their weapons, so, full on pork chops and pie, the two of them sat on the couch and stripped down their guns. Jessica remained back in the kitchen to do the dishes despite how Sam pleaded her to let him clean up instead since she had slaved away over the stove after a shift at the hospital whereas they had rode in the Impala all day for a bum hunt. And as if Dean needed another reason to love her, she told Sam that she didn't want to risk losing him because his gun wasn't up to date, so gun maintenance was more important than dishes.

 

Dedicated to family on top of all her awesomeness? "Dude, if you don't hurry up and marry that girl, I'm gonna do it for you." Dean murmured when Sam plopped down beside him.

 

"Yeah, I don't think you're her type." Sam shot back with a roll of his eyes.

 

"Dude, I'm everyone's type."

 

"No you're not," Jessica chirped loudly from the kitchen. After a moment, she asked, "Is he pouting?"

 

Dean immediately tried to wipe his face clean of all emotion, but his brother grinned and laughed before he answered her question. "Yeah, he totally is."

 

Rather than acknowledge Sam's taunt—because Dean Winchester did not pout about shit—he tried to move onto a conversation more relevant to his interests. "Hey, smart ass in the kitchen, you said the archbishop had a heart attack, right?" He didn't wait for her to answer. "Does that mean we don't have mass tomorrow?" Because, seriously, who wanted to wake up at the ass crack of dawn to listen to some dude rant on and on about how humans needed to be better for God.

 

"He thought he was having a heart attack." Jessica corrected. "He was released a little later."

 

"Dude, I'm pretty sure they have backup preachers in case stuff like that happens."

 

A startled scream came from the kitchen, as did the sound of a plate as it shattered on the floor, and the two men were up from the couch, sawed-off shotguns that they hadn't cleaned yet in hand. In the doorway to the kitchen, they held up their weapons, but dropped them when the metal went red hot. It should have dawned on him then and there what they were up against, but it didn't until he actually looked at their enemies.

 

In the middle of the kitchen stood two men, both dressed in suits. When Dean took a better look at them, he realized that the younger was the same from earlier—the dark-haired, blue-eyed angel. The man at his side was much older, bald around the crown of his head but gray everywhere else. Snake was the immediate, best description that Dean could come up with for him.

 

"Dean and Sam Winchester," the snake drawled and craned his head around to look at Jessica who was pressed back to the counter, hands clenched around the edge. "Relax, kitten. We're not here for you." Dean had to hold his much taller brother back. "It’s nice to meet you, boys. You met Castiel earlier, but you didn't have the pleasure of my company." Apparently, some angels had a sense of humor...even if it was narcissistic and shitty. "I'm Zachariah and I'm Castiel's superior."

 

Jessica tiptoed around the back of them so that she could dart to her fiancé's side and wrap her smaller hand in his. "It's nice to meet you." She greeted on behalf of all humans in the room and even forced a smile. "What can we do for you?"

 

"We know John Winchester led a resistance movement here in Lawrence." Zachariah started in a chatty manner. "But what we don't know is if you two are involved in your father's work or not." He stared at them and looked too smug while he did it. "So, Castiel," he clapped said angel, who winced, on the shoulder, "will stay with you two until he can confirm that you are or aren't involved...or if you know people who are."

 

"Hold up." Sam snarled. "You can't just come in here and—"

 

"We can and we will, boy." Zachariah taunted before he completely disappeared.

 

Castiel remained in the center of the kitchen and almost seemed sheepish as the humans stared him down. No one spoke for a few minutes and then it was Jessica to actually help him settle in because she was a better person than them and neither Sam nor Dean could stand to be in the same room as someone who had, essentially, been sent to invade their lives.

 

Dean tried to fall asleep, but it never really came.

 

***

 

" _Remember the Sabbath day_." A mechanical voice reminded Lawrence as it came over the alarm clock which Dean reached over to slam his hand down on. Since Year 666, Dean heard the same damn speech every damn Sunday and didn't need to be reminded about it.

 

When the eldest Winchester padded out into the main hall, there was no sign that anyone else was up, so he assumed that Sam and Jessica needed their own sweet time to crawl out of bed. More often than not, Jessica had to be one of the first to the hospital when it opened after the mass at ten ended and, as one of the best nurses, she spent most of her Sunday there. And since there had been such a spike in supernatural activity recently, the newly engaged couple rarely saw one another.

 

Dean forced himself down the staircase toward the kitchen where food and unmade coffee would be. He had a feeling that the happy couple would be in bed until the latest possible moment, so he was on his own for breakfast and pork chops sounded pretty damn okay.

 

Since his brain had yet to kick on, it slipped his mind that they had a temporary…guest—and that had been the most polite way to put what the angel was—and he almost broke the cup he grabbed from the cabinet when he saw Castiel seated at the kitchen table where Jessica had left him before they went to bed. It was eerie how he sat still at the table, no movement whatsoever—not even the rise and fall of his chest. Not only did it disturb him, it also added to his crankiness. Unfortunately, the man seated at their table had infinite cosmic power and could smite Dean if he was annoyed by complaints.

 

When Jessica stumbled into the kitchen, dressed in her Sunday best, as bleary-eyed as he had been, Dean looked over his shoulder at Castiel, but the angel had vanished. The blonde followed his gaze before she rubbed her eyes and yawned. "Scare him off already?" she joked.

 

"Yeah, I wish." He snorted and passed her an empty cup. "No, he's around here somewhere. Maybe he'll sneak a peek at my sister in the shower."

 

She smacked him. "You're so mean to him."

 

"What about when he's mean to me?"

 

The aforementioned man decided to slip into the kitchen at that moment. After he kissed his future wife on the forehead and snatched the coffee from her, he plopped down at the table and looked around—probably for the previous topic of conversation. Before he could even open his mouth to ask about it and before Dean could even answer the question, Castiel chose to reappear to the three of them.

 

"I've been ordered to attend mass with you." He informed stoically.

 

Dean couldn't stop the snort. "Oh, so we're supposed to put some master plan to murder your kind together in the middle of church? Man, I'm one hell of a guy, huh, Sammy?" Sam responded with the fiercest bitch face that Dean had seen in a while, honestly.

 

Castiel cocked his head to the side and squinted at him. "Was that supposed to be sarcasm?"

               

"No. Not at all," Dean answered with a wry smirk.

 

"Way too early to put up with this," Jessica murmured under her breath before she cleared her throat and both Dean and Castiel turned to look at her. "Castiel, do you want me to make you a cup of coffee before we go to mass?" She asked politely.

 

"I don't require refreshments...or any form of nourishment, for that matter." He replied curtly. "Thank you for your offer. It is appreciated." He eyed the cup of coffee and almost looked fond as he did. "I remember when you first discovered it. Of course, you were led by example of the goats, so you chewed on the berries rather than brew them—" he looked between the three confused expressions and went emotionless once more. "Whenever you're prepared to leave, call my name."

 

As per angel custom, he was gone without a word.

 

***

 

"You know we have to call him, Dean. Just shut up and do it." Sam shouted from the bedroom where he was changing last minute since Jessica deemed both his and Dean's attire inappropriate for church—especially when they would be in the presence of an angel. Sometimes, with Jessica, is was more like having a mother than a sister. Dean had already changed, but apparently it took a sasquatch more time than someone normal to change.

 

"Why can't you do it? Or Jess? Why do I have to do it?" Dean complained loudly at the bottom of the staircase. "Don't want him to pop in on the quickie you and Jess have going on or what?"

 

"Dean, if you don't shut up, I'll tie you to a chair and make you watch me eat that last slice of pie." Jessica warned, but he didn't take the threat to heart and maybe she sensed that because she poked her head around the corner, eyes narrowed. "I'll do it, Dean Winchester, and I won't even feel remotely bad about making a grown man cry."

 

The two stared one another down, waited for one to bend to the other, and it was him to break because he knew Jessica would do it. As soon as his shoulders slumped and he sent her a bitch face Sam would be proud of, she beamed and vanished from sight. Dean kicked at the bannister before he turned around on his heel and walked over to the couch.

 

"Uh," he started slowly and felt stupider and stupider as he talked to air, "dear Castiel, we're ready for you here? So, whenever you want to show up, just…y’know," there was no immediate response and he huffed. "How the hell do you even call for an angel?"

 

Dean should have expected it when he turned around and Castiel was there to tell him, “You just did.” Of course, as any normal human would have, he had physical responses that he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to, so his heart rate kicked up a gear and he jumped a little when he spotted the angel who appeared out of thin air. Dean desperately hoped that Castiel would leave soon because the being hadn’t even been with them for twenty-four hours and he was getting sick of the whole coming out of nowhere deal.

               

“Do you have to do that?” Dean snapped. Castiel sent him a perplexed look and Dean waved toward his body with a scowl. “Can you wear a damn bell around your neck or something? You’ll give someone a heart attack if you keep popping up behind them.”

               

The other man scrutinized Dean for a second before he nodded. “I apologize for scaring you.” He paused. “I’ll attempt to make my presence known better next time.”

 

Dean rubbed his forehead and released a frustrated breath. “What’s up with the new wardrobe?” Because he swore that Castiel hadn’t been in a tan trench coat with a backward blue tie before he vanished from the kitchen table earlier.

           

Castiel peered down at himself before he stared at Dean once more, blankly and as if the answer was the most obvious in the world. “I didn’t wish to attract any more attention than necessary at the mass today. Humans tend to…flock around us when we attend masses.” Yeah, he could understand that. Most of the people at church were enthusiastic believers and tended to drop to their knees in the presence of angels. “And, obviously, I want there to be the least amount of stigma placed on you and your family as possible. Therefore, I changed my attire to something that would be considered…more casual.”

               

“You call that casual?”

 

“Is it not?”

               

Dean decided to let the conversation drop, mostly because Sam and Jessica had decided to come back downstairs. Once it was established that both brothers had the approval of Jessica to attend church, they shuffled out of the house and crowded into the Impala. It was bothersome when Castiel decided to ride with them to church, but it made sense. Dean had never seen them personally, but he heard stories special sigils that could keep angels out of places. Their new feathered roommate probably didn’t want to risk the chance of losing them on the radar.

 

***

 

Their arrival at church with a new friend—loose term, but Jessica decided they should introduce him that way to the church crowd—was met with skepticism. Dean suspected that everyone automatically knew because only people with bank could dress as nice as Castiel and there weren't exactly a bunch of rich people lined up to be the friends of the Winchesters. Plus, since the dude didn't have much experience with humans—Dean couldn't be certain, but he was pretty damn sure that Castiel hadn't—he didn't have the natural habits of one. He moved in a fluid manner, didn't blink or even breathe as much as he should have, and was too ethereal to pass as human. Dean spotted more than one person who stared over at them in the middle of the service.

 

Once the service was over and Jessica had escaped to work with one of her coworkers, Dean, Sam, and Castiel stood around the front of the church and waited for the crowd to disperse because Bobby, Ellen, and Jo were always some of the last to make it out. Ellen liked for them to be near the front for service because it kept up the whole dedicated worshipers appearance, or so Bobby and Jo told him. They all usually met up after services to talk about if there were any cases that needed to be worked.

 

Pastor Jim nodded toward the brothers as he passed them, but didn't stop to talk, but Castiel noticed. "Who was that man?"

 

"Pastor Jim—uh, Jim Murphy," Dean corrected as Sam scurried away to meet up with Bobby and Ellen. "I guess you could call him an old friend of the family like Bobby over there." He motioned toward the aforementioned man. "The both of them helped watch us when my dad was out on solo hunts."

 

"I know most of the religious officials in this region. I've never heard of a Jim Murphy."

 

"That's because he stepped down from the position." Castiel squinted at Dean in that _human, I'm confused, explain this to me_ way. "Pastor Jim wasn't too keen on the whole deal. He told us that he didn't want to be paid all that money while other people...weren't as well off."

 

Castiel frowned at the explanation. "I don't understand. Yes, some officials are paid more than others, but there shouldn't be that much of a class difference." Concern was written across his face. "Humans should be equal with one another. That would help quicken peace between you. That was our mission."

 

Dean raised a brow and, after looking the angel over a few times, realized that Castiel was serious. "Dude, where have you been? That's not how it is. Have you had your head in the clouds—scratch that. You probably have." How could he be that naïve? "Guess when you're up on top of the mountain, you can't see all the shit down at the bottom."

 

***

 

The moment the Impala pulled up in front of the Winchester home, Castiel disappeared from the backseat. Sam looked over at his older brother, confused, and Dean wasn’t too far behind him. From the near twenty-four hours that he had been around them, Castiel proved that he needed some work in the whole watch humans suspected of treason department. Either that or he wanted to test them and see what they did when they believed he wasn’t around them and it was a test that Dean could pass since neither of them had secrets to hide—well, secrets of their own that weren’t their father’s.

 

Without Castiel there to hover over them, Dean and Sam were able to keep on with their lives as normal and prepared for the hunt that Bobby told Sam about at the church. One of the church members had told the older hunter about a series of deaths in a small town outside of Lawrence where a relative lived and, had Dean been there and not stuck with Castiel, he would’ve complained about how their hunts should have been solved by the angels since they were supposed to make the world such a better place and all.

 

And, of course, rather than help them, Bobby would be occupied with a different hunt that another Kansas hunter, Rufus Turner, needed help with—an okami, he thinks Sam told him, but he hadn’t heard much after Bobby won’t be with us. Whether he believed it or not, Dean knew Bobby better than that and knew that he wanted to partner up with Rufus so the two of them could gossip like the little old ladies they were. Briefly, Dean pondered the idea of calling Bobby and complaining, but Ellen would answer the phone first and then lecture him for a solid hour about how much pressure her husband was under with the resistance and that if he wanted to hunt with a friend then Dean would have to shut the hell up about it, so he didn’t even bother to act on that stupid impulse.

 

It was once the Winchesters were prepared to hit the road and Sam had left a note for Jessica that told her they were on their usual monster of the week hunt—Dean was shocked there weren’t little hearts scribbled on the paper—that Castiel appeared. Because, apparently, it had become a new trend to leave him alone to interact with the angel, Sam darted out the front door and went to pack up the car while Castiel scrutinized them.

 

“You have a hunt.” Castiel stated rather than asked.

 

Dean hiked his duffel up onto his shoulder. “Yeah,” he made a noise in the back of his throat before he murmured, “Someone has to around here since your kind are too busy to do it.”

 

If he was bothered at the jab at his species, he didn’t let it show. “I’ll accompany you on this hunt.” It wasn’t that much of a surprise, but it didn’t help Dean’s mood. “As I’ve told you before, I’m trying to make this as easy as possible for you and your family, so I’ve decided not to ride in the car with you because my presence puts you both on edge. Also, I find vehicles very confining, slow, and overall uncomfortable.”

 

“Huh,” Dean chuckled. “Who knew that angels didn’t like cars?”

 

Castiel watched him wordlessly before his face went blank and he took a few steps toward Dean. “Know this, Dean Winchester,” their faces inches from one another, his voice took on that tone which demanded obedience, “If you make an attempt to lose me on your journey or commit any action that would hint to involvement with the resistance, I will toss you so far into hell that no one—celestial or otherwise—will hear your screams.”

 

Dean would never ever make the mistake to think that Castiel was some little, nerdy, holy tax accountant who spent all his time in the clouds ever again. He was another member of the Holy Host who kept the human population under their control.


	3. Should've Listened To The Angel, Bro.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary of the chapter:  
> Castiel: Dean, don't do the thing.  
> Dean: I'm GoNnA dO thE tHiNg!!!

To travel, a person needed both special permission to do so and some bank to back it up. So, most of the time, the people who traveled across the nation were members of the church. Now, there were some people, such as professional hunters, who had the chance to do it from time to time, but since motels were nonexistent, hunters had to find people to hole up with. Professional was a loose term when it came to people like Dean, but there were some hunters out there that earned the title and when they needed a place to stay, it was with church officials. As stated before, Dean was an unprofessional hunter and hated to keep with people of the church because most of them were pompous and loved to hear themselves talk. So, when they had the chance, they holed up with some other hunters or friends of the friends and if there wasn’t anyone around that they knew then they camped out.

 

Castiel, on the other hand, wasn’t aware of this because, when Dean and Sam stopped at a store for some supplies, he appeared in the middle of the aisle and, after Dean recovered from his near heart attack, informed them that a priest would house them for the duration of their hunt. The two would’ve been fine to sleep in the Impala since the weather was decent enough and they’d had worse before, but Castiel had no idea and made preparations ahead of time for them. As nice as the sentiment was, Dean didn't appreciate it and, okay, he may have been a little bitter about the earlier threat, too. Sam decided to prove he was the better brother and thanked Castiel.

 

"The priest said he would provide food." Castiel repeated as he followed Dean down an aisle. "There's no need for you to purchase food."

 

"Yeah, I know that." Dean shot back then nodded toward the front of the store where Sam was huddled over the telephone. "Samantha wanted to call Jess. So, we'll chill until he's done unless you want to leave and have some private time with your churchy B.F.F. or whatever."

 

The insult went over his head because he frowned in confusion at Dean. "I don't understand. Why would I want to spend private time with the priest? And what is a...B.F.F.?"

 

"Never mind," the human snorted and looked around the store for a second. "So, do you know what's up with this town? Hate to ask for help, but it'd make our lives a hell of a lot easier if you can find out."

 

Castiel nodded. "I searched the entire town before you arrived. I wanted to tell you once you were rested, but since you've asked, I believe a witch, or perhaps a coven, is at work here. I can sense the—" his nose scrunched up in distaste, "I can sense the darkness and a particular home is warded. I cannot enter."

 

Sure, Dean had heard about that sort of stuff, but he still raised a brow and asked, "People can do that?" Castiel looked hesitant to answer, so Dean dropped it—not like he wanted to make himself look suspicious with, what could be considered, interest. "Must have a lot of juice to keep you out, huh?"

 

"I think you could consider it...ironic, actually." Castiel commented and that actually piqued his interest. "The wards are simple and a specific spell that can banish us can be created with human blood. We are powerful, yes, but the blood of a human could banish us in an instant." He shook his head. "I supposed this is another reason humans continue to amaze me." Then, he looked like he actually paled a little when he must’ve realized what kind of information he dished out.

 

Dean had no reason why he felt bad for the angel, but he did, and he cleared his throat. "That's pretty cool, man." He rubbed the back of his neck. "So, you really like us humans, don't you?"

 

"Yes, well, before I became a warrior, I observed the earth and humans." He seemed kind of proud of that.

 

Meanwhile, Dean was kind of creeped out. "So, you sat around in the clouds and...watched us?" It was hard to picture some dude up in heaven who watched the whole world. "Why would you care about what we did? Don't angels think we're the worst since we messed up God's whole plan?"

 

“I—” his brows furrowed and he frowned in confusion as he cut his own answer off. “We’ve been told to love our Father’s greatest creations. I am obedient to Him. I’ve found the progression of humanity fascinating.” He sounded sincere about it, but he seemed troubled at the same time.

 

“Huh,” Dean raised a brow at him. “Guess this whole world domination stuff is just another way to show us how much you care, isn’t it?” he shot back snidely.

 

And for a second there, Dean believed that Castiel looked even more troubled, but then his face went blank. “I’m a soldier now. What we do is for the betterment of mankind.” That line had been rehearsed, no doubt about it.

 

“Yeah, you tell yourself that,” he mumbled.

 

Not much more time passed before the brunet at the counter placed the phone back down and thanked the woman behind the counter. The only reason that woman let them have the phone was because Castiel had popped up in the middle of the damn store and she realized what he was—and what idiot would refuse people who had an angel backing them up? So, not only did the poor woman have to deal with that kind of pressure, but she also had to listen to Dean’s little sister chit chat with her betrothed. Some people had the worst luck in the world.

 

“So, he thinks our problem is the witchy kind,” Dean explained to his brother and nodded toward Castiel who remained a short distance from them as the trio exited the store and to the Impala.

 

Sam watched Castiel before he looked back over at Dean. “Is he sure?” Then, he shook his head at his own question. “Never mind,” he muttered. “What’s our next move? Should we scope the place out or can he just…roast all of them like he did with that vamp nest?”

 

“I could smite them, but the wards need to be erased before I can enter the home where I suspect the coven is.” Castiel explained when the two of them were beside the Impala and apparently angels have super hearing—but that shouldn’t have been much of a surprise.

 

Dean huffed and ran a hand through his hair. “We’ll take down Sabrina and her sisters and if we need help, we can take down the wards and Mister Feathers here can swoop in and save our bacon.” He smacked Castiel on the shoulder with a smirk and moved to open his door. But before he slid inside the car, he noticed that both Sam and Castiel stared after him. “What?”

 

“These witches have most likely sold their souls to a demon if they have such knowledge of angel wards. I believe that the wisest course of action would be if you took down the wards rather than attempt to confront them. A coven of powerful witches could be lethal to you, but it would be simple for me to smite—”

 

“You told me human blood can make this sigil that banishes you, didn’t you? And, buddy, witches like to spill their bodily fluids all over the place. Nasty, all of ‘em,” he made a disgusted face. “I’m pretty damn sure they’ll expect an angel, so you can bet your ass they’ll be ready with one of those sigils. Then, we’re all boned.” Castiel frowned at that and Sam had a bitch face in the works, but Dean beat them both to the punch before they could talk. “Like I said, if it gets too hairy, we can wipe down all those wards.”

 

Castiel looked uncomfortable with the prospect, but what he said was, “I’ll…scope out the house. Head east. You’ll know when you’ve arrived.”

 

***

 

By you’ll know when you’ve arrived, what Castiel meant was that when they were remotely close to the house, he would pop up in the backseat and scare the shit out of both Dean and Sam. The two of them needed to learn how to adjust to that habit or maybe they could sit Castiel down and explain that neither brother's heart would last much more if he went on with that crap—but maybe that was what his superiors wanted. Dean wouldn't put it past the angels, to be honest.

 

The Impala pulled up across the street from a modest house and, from all appearances, it didn't look like the evil lair of a coven of witches. But that was the problem with witches; they were human. Stupid, screwed up in the head humans, but humans nonetheless. Dean breathed out through his nose and angled his body to face his little brother.

 

"New in town?" he posed as their alias.

 

"When aren't we?" Sam retorted with a smirk. "I have a better one, though." Dean's brows lifted. "My fiancée and I want to settle down in our own place. My brother lives with us and he's a pain in our ass. I think that should get us some brownie points, don't you?"

 

Dean reeled back and punched Sam in the shoulder. "Ha ha," he scoffed. "You're hilarious." Then, he had another idea. “How about we be lost instead? Haven’t done that one in a while, right?”

 

"I'm confused." Castiel spoke up and the two men looked toward the backseat at him. "Why don't you tell the witches that you're both professional hunters? Why would you lie to them?"

 

"Dude, you can't walk up to a bunch of suspected witches and tell them you're professional hunters. Either they'll clam up and lie or they'll try to kill you." Dean shot back.

 

Sam smiled a little. "We need in the house to end the problem, but if we don't build some kind of trust with them, like Dean said, they'll kill us at the door. And we need in there to take down the wards, too," he added. "It helps sometimes to use the hunter card, like if we need information. Other times, it's better to lie."

 

"I...believe I understand." Castiel answered after he processed their explanations.

 

"Awesome," Dean murmured under his breath and shared a look with Sam before he nodded toward the door which he then proceeded to open.

 

When the two men were at the front door, Sam tapped on the wood a few times while Dean watched the window closest to them. A woman opened the curtain to peek out at them and he sent her a flirtatious smirk to which she appeared panicked and shuffled away from the window. Neither of them could hear what happened on the other side of the door, but it took a few minutes before someone greeted them.

 

"Hello." A blonde woman smiled at them and stepped outside so that she could close the door behind her. In the background, Dean spotted a brunette in the hall scramble to head into another room. "How can I help you the two of you today?"

 

Renee received a double dose of the ol’ Winchester charm when the two both smiled at her. “Hi there,” Sam spoke up for them both. “I’m Sam and this is my brother Dean and, well, this is a little embarrassing—” he rubbed the back of his neck in false modesty. “See, we were on our way to the capital and we ended up lost. We passed by your house, saw a whole bunch of people, and assumed that someone could…help us out?”

 

Rather than swoon at the charms, she seemed suspicious of them, but kept on her smile even if it did become a little forced. “The capital?” she questioned and tilted her head to the side. Dean was kind of reminded of Castiel, but the angel seemed…more innocent when he did it and, wow, he never believed that would be a thought in his head. “That’s…quite the trip, isn’t it?”

 

“The soon-to-be missus for my brother here is the nurse to our archbishop.” Dean recovered and clapped Sam on the shoulder. “But the two of them want to settle down outside of town and, trust me, no one can say no to her, so we’re on our way to look for a new place for them. Have to say, I’ll miss them.” He winked at her for extra measure.

 

Renee visibly melted and smiled shyly at Dean. “Maybe you’ll find your own special someone to settle down with.” Her cheeks went pink and she cleared her throat. “Well, my friends and I were in the middle of our book club, but I could direct you to our church?”

 

“Do you think we could use your phone? All I need to do is call my fiancée and then we’ll be on our way. It won’t take that much time, I promise.” Sam hit her with those puppy dog eyes and Dean really wonders where he got that shit from because Dean was never able to perfect that look.

 

She shot a look over her shoulder and there was a nervous glint behind her eyes when she turned back to look at them. Also, her smile was tight, but she replied with a, “of course. What kind of person would I be if I turned you away? Love your neighbor, right?”

 

“We’ll be sure to let our archbishop know about how nice you were to us.” Dean commented as the two of them stepped past the threshold into the main hall.

 

Renee scurried ahead of them and glanced over her shoulder to smile politely. “If you don’t mind, I want to let my book club know about what’s going on.” She didn’t wait for their response and both Sam and Dean shared a look. It was more than obvious that whatever the witches were up to, they preferred to do it in the comfort of a living room.

 

Since neither could hear what Renee whispered about with her _book club_ , Dean let his eyes sweep over what was in his line of vision. Despite what Castiel had told them, there didn’t appear to be any kind of wards to keep an angel outside—unless the wards were invisible. Dean didn’t think the witches would have that kind of power, but the demon that they sold their souls to probably did. Still, how the hell was he supposed to take down wards that he couldn’t see?

 

The suspected witch reappeared. “Okay, so, the phone is in the kitchen. You can follow me.”

 

“I’ll wait here.” Dean spoke up while both Renee and Sam started to walk ahead. She raised a brow at him and he smirked back at her. “Trust me on this, sweetheart, you’ll catch diabetes if you listen to him talk with his _beloved_ for more than five seconds. Maybe I could keep your fellow ladies company.”

 

“Oh. Well—” another woman stepped out into the hall with a sweet smile and dark curls. “Dean, Sam, this is my friend, Elizabeth.” The two women looked between each other and had a silent conversation before Renee cleared her throat. “Lizzy, can you keep Dean entertained?” But she added a, “thank you,” before she escorted Sam back toward the kitchen without even waiting for a response from her friend.

 

Elizabeth took a deep breath and her smile turned a little nervous. “It’s nice to meet you.”

 

“Nice to meet you, too,” he stepped to the side so that he could look over her shoulder into the room where he suspected all the witchy activity was.

 

Dean spotted another woman on her knees in front of a coffee table and he immediately noticed the black cloth thrown over the table with a familiar pentagram in the middle. The woman, with olive skin and dark hair, lifted her eyes which flicked black as they connected with Dean’s and a smug smirk stretched across her face.

 

At the same time that her lips started to move, he reached behind him for the gun tucked into his waistband, but sudden, sharp pain hit him square in the chest. The pain centered in the middle of his chest, but it felt like some invisible hand had reached inside him and had a firm grip around his lungs. Dean heaved and tried to breathe past the pain, tried to move, but he could only drop to his knees while he choked on the blood suddenly in his throat. It splattered onto the floor in his line of sight and he groaned in pain as more blood tried to follow.

 

“Dean!” He heard his brother scream and also heard his footsteps thunder toward Dean’s position, but then there was a loud crash. Dean could barely look over his shoulder, but he saw that the same invisible force that hand a hand in his chest had also pinned Sam to the wall.

 

“Oh my God!” one of the women screamed and Dean looked back to watch Renee rush to stand between the demon and Elizabeth. “Tammi, what is wrong with your eyes? And _what_ do you think you’re doing? You can’t _do_ this to—”

 

“Renee, shut your painted hole.” Tammi, the patron demon to desperate housewives, drawled and kept her hand raised. She even took a step forward and another wave of pain rolled over Dean while the wall behind Sam buckled under the pressure. “So, a couple of hunters show up at the door? Not that much a problem. Just another mess I have to clean up.” She said. “But help me out on this one, boys, why exactly is there an angel in the backseat of that rust bucket?”

 

Yeah, this bitch was getting salt shoved up her ass before she was sent back to hell. Of course, he had to stop choking on his own lungs for that to happen first. Since Dean was a little preoccupied with that, Sam took the initiative despite how he was getting crushed into the wall and, God, Dean hated demons so damn much.

 

“ _Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus_ —” he was pushed back and let out a strangled yell.

 

“A piss poor exorcism won’t work on me, fellas.” She taunted. “Now, does someone want to answer my question or should I just go ahead and kill you both? Feathers out there is stuck and if he’s with you, I don’t think he’ll care much if I…” She trailed off and there was a sharper stab of pain in Dean’s chest before more blood spurted onto the floor from his mouth.

 

“There’s an _angel_ outside?” Renee stuttered and both she and Elizabeth look terrified. “These are _hunters_? I…I don’t understand—” she put the proverbial foot down. “You _will not_ do this in my house, Tammi F—”

 

The demon rolled her eyes at the idle threats and then waved her hand to the side, Renee’s neck moving with it almost to the point that her entire head had turned backwards. Elizabeth shrieked in horror and scrambled back from her friend’s body that slumped to the floor.

 

“Oh, shut up, _Lizzy_.” Tammi sneered and turned to face Elizabeth. “What did you expect would happen when you and the book club prayed to all those dark forces? Did you think they were pretend? Did you think it was the power of _synergy_? Oh no, sweetie. You _sold_ yourselves to me.”

 

“We didn’t _know_.” Elizabeth whimpered.

 

“Too late now, honey, and once I’m done with the boys here, it’ll be time for me to collect.”

 

Dean had been able to hold himself up on his hands and knees, but he collapsed onto the floor when the lack of air became too much for his body to handle. Cheek pressed against the hardwood, blood pooled around his head and he continued to choke on whatever body parts (lungs, definitely his lungs) were coming up his throat. It was hard to focus on more than Tammi, but he saw Elizabeth dart into the other room when the other woman wasn’t paying attention. A window shattered in that room she went into and then there was a pained scream from the demon in front of them.

 

In an instant, the invisible force was lifted from Dean, but not the pain or damage that she had inflicted on him. When he lifted his head up, he saw someone behind Tammi and they had a hand pressed to the top of her head. White light flooded from her eyes and mouth and then her scream turned into a gurgle before her body slumped to the floor, smoke coming out of the empty sockets where black eyes used to be.

 

The person behind Tammi turned out to be none other than Castiel and the angel looked over at Dean before he stormed over to kneel in front of him. Two fingers were pressed to Dean’s forehead and all that pain he had been experiencing vanished about as quickly as that force Tammi had crushing down on them did. Hell, even the blood had been wiped from the floor and removed from his clothes.

 

“Wow.” Dean croaked as he stumbled to his feet. “Uh, thanks,” he mumbled and watched as Castiel walked over to repeat the same process with Sam. “Are you okay?” He asked the brunet as he went to help his brother to his feet since he had fallen down once Tammi wasn’t pinning him to the wall anymore.

 

“Yeah,” Sam whispered almost like he couldn’t believe the fact that he _was_ okay. “Yeah, I’m okay. Thank you, Castiel.”

 

Castiel nodded in response. “I could point out that your plan of action was unwise, but I think your pain was more than enough to remind you that I am a skilled warrior and know what I’m talking about. You should take my advice next time.” He chastised.

 

“You told us so. Yeah, we get it.” Dean groused and then shot Castiel a glare. “And skilled warrior, my ass,” he snorted. “You used to watch us from up on high, remember?”

 

“I’ve been alive since before the Earth was shaped. I’ve had much time to learn various skills while I also observed the planet.” He shot back almost petulantly and Dean basked in his ability to goad the angel.

 

“Okay.” Sam stepped between the two of them, probably so he could stop Dean from running his mouth much more. “Dude, he just saved our asses. Can you stow your crap for a second and thank him?” He turned back to Castiel. “You’re right. We should’ve listened to you.”

 

Dean couldn’t help but scoff at his brother, but rather than make any more smartass remarks, he turned around and headed into the room where Elizabeth had run into earlier. When he spotted her ducked beside the shattered window, he ran a hand through his hair and walked over to crouch down in front of her. There were tears running down her cheeks and quiet sobs wracked her body.

 

“We didn’t know…” Elizabeth repeated in a whisper. She paused and then reached out to grab his sleeve, pleading for him to lie when she asked, “Did we really… _sell_ ourselves?”

 

There wasn’t much that he could say to her that would make her feel better. Sure, she had avoided death, unlike her friends, but her soul was still marked for hell. “Make the most of your life.” That seemed to be the only piece of advice he could offer her.

 

The woman choked out a sob and ducked her head between her knees. Dean patted her hand that was still clenched around his sleeve before he withdrew from her grip and stood up to turn and face the two men that had walked into the room with him. Sam looked down at Elizabeth for a few seconds and Dean knew that Sam must’ve overheard his conversation with Elizabeth. Yeah, she dabbled with witchcraft, but Tammi had manipulated her into it probably.

 

“I have to alert the garrison about this.” Castiel spoke up and everyone snapped their heads to look at him. And Dean could’ve sworn that he almost looked sympathetic as he addressed Elizabeth directly. “I have to tell them about this. There could be more demons in the area. But I will explain your situation. I’m sure they’ll be lenient when they decide your punishment.”

 

Dean had only heard rumors about what happened to people who were punished by angels and if they were anything to go bad, Elizabeth didn’t have much of a life ahead of her. But it wasn’t like there was much he could do considering he was on the heavenly shit list, too. All he could do was hope that Castiel was right and that the angels would show come kind of compassion toward Elizabeth.

 

Dean doubted it, though.


	4. Well, Shit, There's Actual Bonding In This One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Led Zeppelin ain't included in at least one chapter, it ain't a Dean/Cas story.

The immediate week after the witch hunt had been pretty hard on those who were in and close to the Winchester household and Castiel was to blame for that. No one could relax when Castiel could pop in the room with them or interrupt a conversation at any moment. And it didn’t help that Dean and Sam didn’t have any hunts, so, unlike Jessica who could escape from the tense atmosphere with work, they were around the angel most of the time.

 

It stressed everyone out in the house, but if Castiel saw how much he affected them, he didn’t let on about it. Shit, that could’ve been his goal—freak them out until they caved and confessed to their sins or whatever. Dean didn’t know. All he knew was that he and Sam had a serious case of cabin fever and, because they couldn’t take it out on the root of their problem, they took their frustration out on each other.

 

Today, it had been pretty damn bad between them, almost to the point of physical violence. Sam had stormed off to the library in, what used to be, their father’s study to either organize it or read a book. Being the nerd he was, that usually helped him cool down. As for Dean, he had escaped to the garage where he could work on Baby who needed some serious maintenance.

 

Underneath the hood of the Impala was how Castiel found him the next time he popped up in the house. Dean was more focused on the tape that he had playing on the radio inside his car and was humming along with Led Zeppelin’s _Houses of the Holy_ rather than doing actual work. When he heard the signature whoosh of wings, he was wiping some oil off his hands with an old rag and turned so that he could face Castiel.

 

“Hello, Dean.” Castiel greeted.

 

“Hey, Cas,” Dean shot back as casually as he could. At least he could say that he didn’t jump this time when Castiel popped up out of thin air.

 

Castiel squinted and cocked his head to the side. “Cas?” he repeated questioningly.

 

Dean sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh, it’s a nickname. Most of the time, people use them with friends, but sometimes we use them when people have complicated names that we don’t feel like saying. Castiel is kind of a mouthful, but if you don’t like Cas, then I can—”

 

“No.” Castiel interrupted him and his brows furrowed. “No, if you prefer Cas, that’s fine. I want to make this as easy as possible for you and your family.” He then sighed softly. “I know this has been difficult. You and Sam have been…very hostile toward each other lately and I know it’s because neither of you are comfortable with my presence.”

 

“Um,” Dean cleared his throat. The dude was spot on. “Sam’s just been high maintenance this past week. He’s like that after a bad case. It’s nothing about…” He trailed off when he noticed how Castiel looked unimpressed with his lies and coughed awkwardly. “Yeah, I’m just gonna shut up now.”

 

The other man looked down at the concrete and almost seemed upset. “Contrary to what you may believe, I don’t like to make humans miserable.”

 

“I believe you.” And shockingly enough, that was the truth. “But, man, you _have_ to stop with the whole Houdini act.” Castiel’s face scrunched up in confusion and Dean groaned. “We’ve been over this before. Humans aren’t used to someone popping up in the room any time they want to, and the same goes for disappearing in the middle of a conversation, too. If you want us to be more comfortable around you, you have to act _human_ …or as close to it as you can get.” He explained.

 

“I don’t understand. What am I doing wrong?” Castiel questioned.

 

“In case you didn’t know, Cas, people _blink_ more than once every few hours and they don’t sit around at the kitchen table all night staring at the friggin’ wall.” He waved his arms around dramatically. “For someone that watched humans, you sure as hell don’t know a lot about us, dude.”

 

The angel’s frown deepened and he looked away from Dean. “It’s been some time since I’ve been able to sit and observe the Earth. I understand that my human etiquette is…severely lacking.” And he actually looked like he was about to cry because he had such a hard time fitting in with humans.

 

“Well, hey, at least you care enough to make us feel comfortable. I haven’t met many of you guys, but most of them are dicks.” Again, Dean tried making Castiel feel better and he had no idea why. Hell, maybe it was because, in the back of his head, he knew he’d be stuck with the angel for a while and it’d be better to get along with him rather than hash it out all the time. Or maybe it was because he didn’t like to watch a grown man cry…or an angel in the body of a grown man. “Especially that dude with you the first time we met. What was his name?”

 

“Uriel,” Castiel supplied.

 

“Yeah, Uriel,” Dean shook his head and chuckled. “He must be fun at parties. Guy was a real comedian.”

 

The other man’s head tilted to the side. “Uriel’s the funniest angel in the garrison. Ask anybody.” Then, he must’ve reran Dean’s comment through his mind and almost looked bashful when he said, “Oh. That was sarcasm, wasn’t it?”

 

Dean tried to hold back the laughter, but he couldn’t stop it completely. “Wow. No offense, Cas, but I’d hate to hear what passes as a joke up in heaven.” He shook his head as he then walked over to his workbench where a bottle of water rested. “Hey, can I ask you a question?”

 

“I can’t guarantee I’ll provide an answer, but yes, you may.”

 

“Do you know what happened to Lizzy? The…uh, only survivor of that coven?” he reiterated and then ran a hand across his face when he remembered what Castiel had said about her punishment. “You said that you were sure they’d take it easy on her, but you didn’t look all that sure about it, man. Have you heard about what happened to her?”

 

Castiel looked uneasy about the new topic. “You want to hear that she was cleared of her crime, don’t you?” The dude wasn’t completely clueless about human behavior, after all. “I’m sorry, Dean, but Elizabeth _was_ a witch and she needs to be punished for that. But I haven’t heard about the severity of her punishment. That is left to those of a higher rank.”

 

All Dean could do was shrug and smile dryly. “It was worth a shot to ask, yeah?”

 

“You are a very kind man, Dean.” Castiel observed with a small smile that actually made warmth rise in Dean’s cheeks. “You barely knew Elizabeth and, as I understand, you already had a poor disposition toward witches to begin with yet you’re still concerned about her fate. That is very considerate of you.”

 

“Uh, it’s more for Sam than me, really. Like I said earlier, he gets bitchy after bad cases and he was pretty worried about what ended up happening to her…” But Castiel didn’t look convinced. He looked more amused than anything else.

 

Their conversation dropped after that and Dean stood there for a few more seconds before he moved back over to the Impala. He cleared his throat and reached for one of his tools then looked over his shoulder at Castiel who still stood in the same place that he appeared in. “You’re allowed to sit down somewhere, y’know.” He pointed out and motioned toward the chair that was in front of his workbench.

 

Castiel’s brows furrowed. “I’m fine—” Dean sent him another dry look and he seemed to understand. “Oh. You’re uncomfortable with my presence? If you prefer it, I can make myself incorporeal.”

 

“Incorporeal? _Seriously_ , Cas?” he shook his head in disbelief. “No, dude, look…” He rubbed his forehead and sighed in frustration. “It’s _uncomfortable_ having you standing right behind me when I’m bent over the hood. Sit down and relax or…whatever.”

 

The other man blinked in surprise. “Oh. Okay then.” He mumbled and awkwardly shuffled over to the barstool to take a seat. Then, he looked at Dean expectantly. “Is this better?”

 

It was still kind of awkward having a socially incompetent angel in the garage with him, but he didn’t want to hurt Castiel’s feelings, so he replied with a, “Yeah.” He turned back around to look down at the engine. “Now, sit back and listen to some Zep.” He blinked down at the machinery in confusion because he had actually cared about an _angel’s feelings_. Did they even have feelings? Shit, that was a question for the scholars.

 

When Castiel did exactly what Dean told him to do and actually kept quiet, Dean was pretty shocked. He thought that the angel would’ve disappeared and left Dean to himself or maybe gone to check on Sam in the library, but he stayed seated. As _Kashmir_ played, neither of them said a word to each other. The only sound in the garage, aside from the music, was the occasional tinkering of Dean messing with the Impala.

 

Six minutes into the song, Castiel commented on the music with, “This is a very beautiful song.” Dean craned his head to look over his shoulder at the angel, but his blue eyes were focused on the windshield of the car rather than him. “I wished they would’ve allowed you to keep music. It’s always amazed me how you’ve been able to use it as a way to express yourselves.” He said wistfully.

 

Dean didn’t question who _they_ were. But he did stand up to his full height and turned around so that he could study Castiel’s face and the dude actually looked sincere. Dean replayed every word that Castiel had ever said to him and started to think that maybe, _maybe_ Castiel was one of the angels he heard about from his mom when he was a little kid. Maybe Castiel actually cared about humanity, actually believed that humans were God’s best creations and should be protected, and hated the whole world domination deal as much as the humans did. Maybe the only reason he issued that threat before the witch hunt had been because he had to since it was his _mission_ to babysit Dean and Sam.

 

“There’s more than Zep, y’know.” Dean offered hesitantly and when Castiel turned his stare on Dean, he flushed and rubbed the back of his neck. “One of the perks to being a hunter is that I kept Baby here.” He reached up to pat the top of the hood that was still propped up. “And I kept my awesome tunes.” He cleared his throat and jutted a thumb toward the windshield. “So, I could put in some other music if you want to hear more?”

 

The corner of Castiel’s lips turned upward a little. “Yes, I think I would like that.” Then he looked down at the ground. “Only if you’re comfortable with that and once you’re done with your work, of course.”

 

It was hard to believe, but Dean was actually kind of excited to show Castiel his collection of classic rock tapes.

 

***

 

Sometimes, there would be a break between hunts. It happened from time to time—probably because the monsters needed to hide better from heaven or because the angels were actually not sitting on their feathery asses and taking care of the monster problem for them. And, yeah, it made the people close to them happy since it meant they didn’t face the possibility of death, but it also meant that there wasn’t as much money in the house. Jessica made a decent amount of money at the hospital, sure, but both Sam and Dean hated to depend on her. Not because she was a woman or any other misogynistic crap like that, but because they didn’t want to mooch off her. Jessica worked as hard as any other person out there and deserved to reap the benefits—not use it to support her soon-to-be hubby and his older brother.

 

So, usually when the lull in hunts happened, both of them would take on odd jobs around Lawrence. Since their father had to do the same, they had learned a lot about repair from him and that was usually the type of jobs that they took on. If Sam was lucky, he would help out at a school or help out at a library. And if Dean was lucky, he would fix cars for either the archbishop or one of the wealthier Lawrence citizens. More often than not, though, they ended up doing repair at the church. Since the church was so old, it needed a lot of repair and, honestly, he tried to figure out why the hell they hadn’t hired someone on for fulltime repair. He also wanted to know how the hell they knew when Dean had a break in between hunts because they always called him at the exact time when he was low on cash.

 

That was how Dean found himself at the church, underneath one of the sinks in the kitchen that was used for those parties that the more devout members threw every now and then. Castiel awkwardly stood beside the sink while a few members of the church continually walked by the kitchen to sneak a peek at him. There were even a few brave souls who approached him and tried to make conversation. A lot of them were older women, so either they knew he was an angel and were awestruck or they wanted to ogle the fresh piece of man meat, and Dean was almost positive it was the latter.

 

“I should check in on Sam and Jessica.” Castiel announced after a few more minutes of too friendly women greeting him.

 

“C’mon, man, we talked about this. Give the lovebirds some alone time, okay? This is Jess’s first day off in a while and with you and me around all the time, they never have the chance to,” he paused and tried to find the nicest way to phrase what, no doubt, Sam and Jessica were doing, “cement their relationship.” Yeah, that sounded pretty okay.

 

The response Dean received was extremely exasperated. “I’m not naïve. I know that they’re copulating.” And Dean, who hadn’t expected that at all, tried to tighten a pipe with a little too much force and sent his hand back into his face. Castiel must’ve heard the noise, but he either didn’t care or figured that Dean would be okay. “I just didn’t think it would take so long for them to finish. The women here are very kind, yes, but I don’t have, what you call, _people skills_.”

 

Dean couldn’t help but crack up at that. He moved out from underneath the sink and when Castiel looked down at him, there was actually a little smile on his face, like the one in the garage. “Dude,” he gasped out and after another minute or two got a hold of his laughter. “Just shut the door if they bother you that much.” Rather than wait on Castiel to do it, Dean stood up himself and walked over to shut the door to the kitchen. “There. Problem solved.” He shook his head and chuckled. “By the way, no one says _copulating_ anymore, Cas.”

 

“Is intercourse better?”

 

“Maybe if you’re a prude or a scientist or some shit,” Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, but he was still grinning. “People call it sex nowadays…or they say fucking. That too,” he added then his nose scrunched up. “Sorry, man, didn’t mean to cuss in front of you. I should stop doing that, huh? I’ll end up downstairs if I don’t.”

 

“Your soul is marked for heaven. Foul language isn’t going to threaten that, Dean.” Castiel shot back and looked at Dean as if he was a dumbass because he actually believed that.

 

That almost nonchalant statement made Dean’s head spin around to face Castiel so fast that he was shocked it didn’t snap. He almost expected Castiel to take back what he said and tell Dean he was headed for hell. “Heaven?” it felt like there was a lump in his throat. “I’m going to heaven? You can tell that?” Sure, there were worse people out there than Dean, but he had expected hell was where he was headed when he died. Unlike Sam or Jessica, Dean wasn’t…good. Or, at least it felt that way to him. There were a trail of broken hearts behind him, he had lied to people who didn’t deserve that, had a lot of hate in his heart, and didn’t have much faith in heaven or God as a whole. That didn’t seem like heaven material to him.

 

Castiel must’ve sensed how emotional Dean had become because his expression softened. “Of course I can, Dean.” He murmured. “When someone is marked for hell, there is a…stain on their soul. I can see yours and, if I’m allowed to be honest, it’s one of the most beautiful souls I have ever seen. It’s radiant and righteous and is in no way darkened. It is a little fractured, but you haven’t had the easiest life.”

 

And for yet another reason he didn’t know, the _beautiful soul_ comment made heat rise to his cheeks. He rubbed the back of his neck and cleared his throat. “Aren’t you supposed to, y’know, keep that a secret?”

 

“You’re not on your deathbed. That status of your soul could change. I doubt it since, as far as I can tell, you are a good man, but it isn’t definitive. I see no problem with telling you that.” Castiel replied in an as-a-matter-of-fact tone.

 

“Guess you’re about the only angel that seems to think I’m any good.” Dean scoffed.

 

Castiel frowned, but nodded nonetheless. “I’ve tried to tell my superiors about my beliefs, but they are convinced your father sold his soul to a demon and that you and Sam have taken up where he left off.” He breathed out through his nose. “I can only hope that they’ll see the truth sooner rather than later.”

 

He scrutinized the angel. “You have a lot of faith in me. How can you be so sure I’m not in the resistance?” That wasn’t the best thing to say to someone that could decide your fate, but he just couldn’t understand how Castiel could believe in him so much, especially since they hadn’t known each other that long in the scheme of things.

 

“Like I said, I’ve seen your soul.” Castiel responded with a little smile. “Both you and Sam value your family and friends too much to risk them in the resistance. I also doubt that either of you would let the other sell his soul to a demon for information and neither of you would work with a demon. The more powerful demons have learned how to hide their stains on human souls, of course, but I still believe in you both.” He then paused and looked ahead, not really focus. “My brothers and sisters…they’ve spent so much time in heaven that they’re disconnected from humans. Most of them have a great deal of distrust for humans. I, on the other hand, have faith in humanity.” After another second, he frowned again. “We shouldn’t talk about this anymore. If the wrong person heard me speak like that…it could be considered blasphemy.”

 

After what Castiel said about Dean, about all the faith he had in him and humanity, the least he could do for Castiel was shut up when he needed him to. “Yeah, sure, Cas,” he carefully dropped back down onto the floor so that he could start to finish up repair on the sink.

 

It didn’t take that much time for Dean to finish up his work on the sink and the two of them kept quiet until Dean stood back up and peered around the room. There was a picture up on the wall, one that someone would expect to see in a church. It was a cliché one that depicted what heaven looked like—blue skies, white clouds, and a cloud staircase that led up to a bright light. It seemed pretty lame to Dean, but he couldn’t help but look at Castiel and ask, “Dude, is that really what heaven looks like?” He pointed to the picture.

 

Castiel tilted his head to the side and turned to examine said picture. When he turned back around to face Dean, he frowned. “Absolutely not,” he sounded pretty offended that Dean even asked that question. “Heaven is not one place. Well, for a human soul, I suppose it is.” He must have seen how confused Dean looked because he backtracked and tried to explain better. “One soul has its own personal heaven. Therefore, heaven is made up of many heavens. And, of course, there’s the garden in the center.”

 

“The garden?” he repeated slowly. “Is that where the Big Man…?”

 

“I…don’t know.” Castiel answered just as slowly. “I’ve never actually seen Father before. I’m not sure anyone has except for a chosen few.” Dean made a sour face and his companion went on the defense. “Do you have some sort of issue with that?”

 

Dean shook his head. “No, man,” he crouched down and started to throw his tools back into the box. The air tensed up and when Castiel shifted, Dean decided to make his peace even if it was bound to put him in deep shit. “It’s just…how can you guys do this and you haven’t even met God? Is He even the one that told you guys to take over the world or did you decide to do that on your own?”

 

“I don’t question the orders, Dean. I follow them.” Now, rather than offended, he looked pissed. “No one would ever make a decision like that unless our Father commanded it. If you value your life, you’ll never make an accusation like that ever again. I should report you for saying something so blasphemous.”

 

He took note of that _should_ in the last bit of that sentence. “But you won’t,”

 

“No. Not this time.” Castiel answered. “But say something like that again and I will.” He stared Dean down, much like how he did before they left for church almost two weeks ago. “You should watch your mouth, Dean Winchester. Not all angels are forgiving as me.”

 

Dean couldn’t help but snort. He had been four when he lost his mother, but he could still remember some things about her and he remembered how much she loved to tell Dean that angels were watching over him, that they were kind and protectors. It seemed like a cruel twist of fate that an angel crashing into their house had been what killed her. But, in the scheme of things, Dean’s realized that it was probably for the better since her heart would’ve broken when she saw what the angels were really like.

 

He hadn’t noticed that his eyes had dropped to the floor, but when he looked back up, Castiel had flown off, and, really, what a surprise that was.

 

***

 

As soon as Dean stepped inside the front door, Castiel was there to meet him. Yeah, he should’ve expected it, but he’d just guessed Castiel was too pissed off to show his face around the house, so he was shocked and held a hand over his racing heart. “Damn it, Cas, we talked about this.”

 

“Oh.” Castiel had that pinched expression on. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

 

“Dude, you either need to ride in the car with me from now on or put a damn bell on. You need to let people know when you’re around or be with them so you don’t scare the shit out of them.” He took a deep breath and that helped ease his heart rate down a notch or two. “Aren’t you still mad at me?”

 

He shook his head. “No. I…understand that you have questions. And I know that humans are upset about this situation. It can seem unfair, but we do have the best in mind for humanity. God commanded this and you’re His most cherished creations. He wouldn’t command this if He didn’t want the best for humans.”

 

Honestly, Dean hated to hear this same bullshit that everyone tied in with the angels spewed, but he was way too tired to even bother with an argument. “Yeah, whatever you say, man.” But he did have a problem with how Castiel seemed to roll over for his superiors. He seemed like he really cared about humans, but he was too naïve if he believed the crap he told Dean about the bigger picture.

 

Someone cleared their throat and both men turned to look at Jessica who seemed a little concerned about the air in the room. “Hey,” she said carefully. “How’d the job at the church work out?”

 

“Well,” Dean started, “all the old ladies were checking Cas out, so there’s that. Oh, and you should thank me ‘cause if it wasn’t for me, he would’ve busted in on your _alone time_ with Sammy.” He winked at her and beamed when he saw how her cheeks reddened.

 

“I hate you so much.” Jessica whined and covered her face with her hands. “I really hope you didn’t talk to an _angel_ about sex. That’s a new low for you, Dean.”

 

Before Dean could even get a word in edgewise, Castiel spoke up. “As I explained to Dean before, I’m aware that you and Sam are healthy adults who are in love and soon to be married. People have…had sex with less than that between them.” He looked to Dean expectedly, almost like he was proud that he used more up to date terms. Then he had some kind of an epiphany. “Of course, one of you or both of you could be uninterested in sex and you bonded in another way. One would be very surprised at how fluid human sexuality truly is.”

 

Dean rolled his eyes because only Castiel could talk about human sexuality so seriously. Jessica, on the other hand, seemed genuinely interested, but also confused. “Does that mean that the preachers are wrong?” She inquired and Castiel raised a brow at her. “When they say that homosexuality is condemned by the bible? Is that not right?”

 

“There is quite a bit that the bible isn’t correct about.” He commented. “Father doesn’t care about who you love so much as you love, similar to how he doesn’t care about premarital sex. Take Dean, for example.” He looked over to Dean who tensed up at the mention of his name. “His soul won’t be sent to hell merely because he has had premarital sex on many occasions or because he is bisexual.”

 

Jessica looked back and forth between Dean and Castiel, confused about what the latter said before it finally processed in her head. Her eyes widened in shock and her mouth fell open for a second before she snapped it shut and looked over at Dean who sputtered. “What the—how the—” he waved his arms around in wild gestures. “How do you know about that? What the hell, man? Have you spied on me?” He accused angrily, immediately on the defensive.

 

“No.” Castiel answered truthfully. “I’ve seen you… _flirt_ and _check out_ ,” Dean could practically hear the quotation marks, “both men and women and assumed that you had an interest for both sexes. Was that wrong of me to assume?”

 

No. No, he had hit the nail on the head with that assumption, but that was a part of Dean that he had kept secret from everyone in his life for years. Once the world had been taken over, he had been stuck in church every damn Sunday of his life and he sat in on lectures of homosexuality and how it was a sin. When he had come harder than ever before to the thought of one particularly cute dude in church at sixteen, he had freaked out for weeks about it. Plus, there wasn’t much that his father agreed with the angels about, but he always made snide comments and had an expression that showed his disgust when they went into seedy bars, looking for clues on cases, and spotted gay couples in the corners. That was the only thing that put the fear of God in Dean, the possibility of his dad finding out about his bisexuality. It made him feel better when he realized that he liked both men and women about the same, but it was never enough for him to talk about it to anyone—not even Sam or Jessica.

 

Rather than talk to Jessica about what Castiel said, Dean did what he did best when faced with emotional shit that hit too close to home…he ran. It wasn’t far, but when he slammed his door shut and locked it, that was more than enough to tell everyone that he didn’t want to be talked to. He paced back and forth in front of his door for a few seconds before he snarled at his own stupidity at being so completely blatant with his sexuality in front of a freaking angel of the Lord and plopped down on his bed. He buried his face into his pillow and almost screamed but that would only make his case that he wasn’t acting like a toddler about the issue null and void.

 

Dean stayed in his bedroom and never answered anyone, not even when Jessica knocked on his door and told him that dinner was done.

 

***

 

It was late when Dean decided to sneak out of his room because his stomach reminded him that he hadn’t eaten since the old ladies at church fed him lunch. He knew that Sam and Jessica would be in bed by that time and he prayed that Castiel was out on some official heaven business because he didn’t want to face anyone after that whole…fiasco. Now that hours had passed, he realized that, yeah, he acted like a stupid kid. He should’ve manned up and told everyone the truth then and there, not hide out as if that would make it all disappear.

 

Unfortunately, fate decided that Winchesters weren’t the kind of people who had a lot of luck and Castiel was there in the kitchen when he stepped inside. Blue eyes locked on him as soon as he stepped past the threshold, but he kept his own on the plate of food left on the countertop. Despite the late hour, he tried to make as much noise as possible because he couldn’t handle the silence and the tension that came with it. Since Castiel had been alive since forever, Dean went ahead and assumed that he could read the air in the room and understand that Dean didn’t want to talk, but _no_ , he and Sam were stuck with the most socially awkward angel.

 

“I didn’t mean to upset you.” Castiel spoke up in a quiet voice, careful to not wake anyone up. “I was under the assumption that your family knew about your sexuality. I’m sorry that I did that to you. I shouldn’t have even talked about such a sensitive topic. Not without speaking to you about it first.”

 

Dean shoved some mashed potatoes into his mouth and tried to think of what he could say to Castiel. “You didn’t know. Honestly, I should’ve talked about it to Sam and Jess awhile back, but I couldn’t ever do it. Thanks for doing it for me, I guess.” He mumbled after he swallowed his food.

 

“I’m sorry, Dean.”

 

“You’re okay, Cas. I’m fine. Just…have to figure out what I’m gonna tell the lovebirds when they ask why I never told them about it.”

 

“Why _haven’t_ you told them about it?”

 

Dean had to stop and think before he spoke. “Not sure you know what this is. Fuck, who am I kidding? ‘Course you do. You know muscle memory?” He inquired and Castiel nodded in affirmation. “Guess it’s kind of like that, y’know? I hid it from my old man for so many years that the habit stuck. I know Sam and Jess don’t care about shit like that, but…old habits die hard, man.”

 

“Both Sam and Jessica assured me that they accept you no matter what your sexual preference may be and I didn’t sense any deceit from either of them.” In true Castiel fashion, he cocked his head to the side and squinted. “Sam also seemed very proud of the fact that you choose to sleep with both sexes rather than try to hide your attraction to men despite the stigma that society’s placed on it. You’re very brave for that. I know that humans can be very…” He trailed off and tried to find a polite way to say what he wanted to.

 

“We can be real jackasses, I know. People fear what they don’t understand. Blah, blah, blah,” he snorted and dropped down in a chair at the table across from Castiel. “I could care less about what other people think about me. Like I said, it was my dad that I was worried about.”

 

Castiel studied him before he said, “You admired your father very much.” He paused and what he said next almost seemed like a question more than an actual comment. “But a parent should accept their child. To reject your own child merely because of their sexuality seems…cruel.” He looked at Dean hesitantly. “Or at least, that’s what I’ve learned from my observation of humans.”

 

Castiel prodded at some touchy issues that Dean avoided at unless he absolutely had to. John Winchester was an idol for Dean, but the man had his flaws and all that his oldest son wanted from him was acceptance, but it never happened. John doted on Sam, but he was a total hard ass on Dean and it would’ve been a hell of a lot worse if he found out that Dean took it up the ass from time to time. Fuck, there was no doubt that he would’ve kicked Dean out of the house if he ever found out. It sucked, but that was how it was.

 

“Dad wasn’t perfect. No one is.”

 

Castiel smiled a little dry smile. “I’m sorry. I keep upsetting you, don’t I?” Dean shrugged, but didn’t say anything in response. It made Castiel sigh quietly. “As you’d most likely say, my people skills suck.”

 

Dean bit down on his lower lip to hold back the bark of laughter and instead chuckled lowly. “Hey, at least you’re better than your pals, yeah?” He noticed how Castiel certainly sobered up and looked past Dean, not really focusing on anything. “Do those pals of yours need you?” he asked.

 

“Zachariah needs my report, yes.” The look on his face told Dean that he wasn’t too pleased about that.

 

“Jeez, Cas, you may want to wipe that look off your face. Someone would say that you don’t want to meet up with Zach.” Castiel actually shot Dean a harsh look and Dean actually let out a loud laugh that echoed throughout the house. “Sorry about that, dude. Have fun.”

 

“I find your sarcasm to be in poor taste, Dean.” Castiel shot back with a face that looked like he just sucked on a lemon before he disappeared from the table.


	5. Dean's Dick Betrays Him!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean has some less than platonic desires around Castiel. So, of course it makes sense for him to try and get laid...with people that are not Castiel. Yeah, nice work on that one, Dean.

It was around the two month mark of Castiel in the house that everyone learned to accept his presence and was finally comfortable to have him around. Rather than awkwardly dance around him in the kitchen, Jessica actively tried to involve him with their daily routines or conversations. And it dawned on Sam at some point or another that Castiel had been alive since pretty much the dawn of time and, since Sam was the nerdiest nerd to ever nerd, he asked the angel a lot of questions about history or about how the world worked or whatever topic he came up with that day. To Dean’s shock, Castiel actually enjoyed the conversations, loved to talk about humanity and their history. Jessica and Dean teased them both to no end, but, hell, he learned a lot when he eavesdropped every now and then.

 

Hunts picked up, but with Castiel on their side, it only took one brother to take care of them. Bobby was involved sometimes, yeah, but most of the time, Dean opted to take the hunts instead and split the money between everyone. Bobby was like a father to Dean and he would never say it out loud to Bobby, but the older man was getting up there in years and he should spend his golden years with Ellen and Jo. Hunters never have much in the way of a lifespan, so Dean would let him stay as safe as possible. And as for Sam, he had a wedding to plan with Jessica and Dean wanted them to have their time with each other. Both of them deserved it.

 

On the road with Castiel, Dean often had to ask himself who was more of a nerd, Sam or Castiel. Sure, the dude was a total badass on hunts and if he had use for money, he’d offer Castiel a cut, too, because he took care of the spookies most of the time with little help from Dean. But he also went crazy over the littlest shit. Like, once, when they were on the hunt for a wendigo, a couple of bees wouldn’t leave Dean alone and he wasn’t allergic, sure, but he didn’t want to get stung, so he swatted at them. When Castiel looked so offended and then went on a _ten minute_ rant about how important the bees were in the scheme of the world, Dean would’ve rather shoved his head into a beehive than listen to another word about bees. He was shocked that Castiel hadn’t just dropped everything and stripped naked then skip through the forest with all the cute and cuddly animals and bees.

 

Still, Dean found that he liked to hunt with Castiel. He had these little quirks that made Dean smile. He would taste some stuff that Dean ate on the road at secret stops he and the family had come to know over the years and would make a face because “it tastes like molecules. That isn’t pleasant, Dean.” Of course there was the whole head tilt and squint thing he did when he was confused by some human habit or whatever. Also, when Dean made some reference to modern culture, Castiel had a habit of looking exasperated and saying, “I don’t understand that reference.”

 

God, he sounded like Sam the moment he and Jessica started to date. All the kid could do for a week was talk about how cute Jessica was when she did this or how adorable she was when she did that. Dean was happy for him, but Jesus, he wasn’t sure how he didn’t end up with diabetes after that week.

 

Dean shook his head and instead tried to focus on the campfire ahead of him. He and Castiel had to spend some time in the woods because there was apparently some kind of monster that liked to munch on horny teens that snuck out into the forest after curfew. Dean felt sorry for people who went out that way. All they wanted to do was have a little time with their sweetheart because bible thumpers loved to shove celibacy down kids’ throats these days now that they had the angels on their sides and they ended up dead for it. It was a damn shame. That was for sure.

 

“Can I tell you something if you promise not to tell another soul?” Castiel suddenly asked while his head was tilted upward and focused on the starry skies above them.

 

Dean immediately understood the hidden message in that question, but he should’ve known that Dean would never ever rat Castiel out to his superiors. “‘Course you can, Cas.” He replied and threw a stick into the fire to keep away the chill.

 

“I…” And the dark-haired man actually looked scared for a second. Then, he exhaled loudly and said, “I never wanted to be a warrior.” He paused and then tried to explain what he meant more clearly. “Like I’ve told you before, I used to watch the Earth and I loved it. I’ve watched you stumble and crawl and somehow, you come out stronger than before despite all the devastation and destruction. It amazed me.” And by _you_ , he meant humans. “And then, I was pulled away from my duties by Raphael. I was commanded to take up the sword and no one told me why until we stepped foot on Earth.”

 

This was a pretty sensitive topic for him, Dean could tell. “I’m sorry, Cas.” He took a deep breath and smiled bitterly. “If it makes you feel better, you’re not the only one that got the short end of the stick. When I was a kid, I always wanted to be a mechanic. That was what my dad was before we were assigned to be hunters, but it’s not because of him that I wanted to be one.” He scrounged his head for an explanation. “Cars were cool and they’ve always made sense to me in a way that nothing else can. I can take them apart, put them back together, fix them up, make them look nice, and that’s all there is to it.”

 

“When this…mess is behind us, maybe before I return to my duties with the garrison, I could…pull some strings, as you would say, and help you become a mechanic?” Castiel offered and Dean couldn’t help but smile a little easier. Castiel noticed how Dean chuckled and reeled back a little, like he was offended that Dean would laugh at his kind offer. “What?”

 

“There aren’t many people with cars these days, buddy.” He shook his head. “But…thank you for the offer, anyway. I really appreciate it.” His companion looked really frustrated and upset about Dean’s answer. “Whoa, Cas, dude, it isn’t that big a deal. Really, it’s not.”

 

“I used to help people, Dean. No one knew about it, of course, but I would watch over travelers. That had been my main purpose in heaven. If they were lost, I would help to point them in the right direction. If they were too hot, I’d let them have a cool breeze. I would help some edible plants grow around them if they were in desperate need of food. I…” He stared down at his hands. “I did more. But now…all I do is watch humans cower when I walk by or stare at me spitefully like you used to do. I…it makes me very unhappy.”

 

Castiel closed his eyes and his fists clenched in his lap. “I’m…not a hammer, as you would say. I have my questions. I have my doubts. I don’t know what is right or what is wrong anymore and I loathe it, Dean.” Then, he smiled wryly. “Sometimes, I truly wish I could be human. It all seems so much simpler as a human.”

 

Dean couldn’t help but snort at that. “Simpler, yeah,” he remarked sarcastically. “Most of the time, we have no idea what we’re doing down here. That’s why your pals came down to babysit us, isn’t it?” Yeah, that was not the best thing to say. Dean released a frustrated moan before he stood up suddenly and walked around the campfire to sit beside Castiel. “But I don’t think I’d ever want to be more than human. We fuck up a lot, but…I don’t know. I wish you,” he waved at Castiel, “could sit down and have one of those moments where you look around and think, ‘yeah, this is my life and it sucks sometimes, but I wouldn’t trade it for a damn thing’.”

 

The other man’s brows furrowed and he stared down at the flames. “I…think I have had moments like that. It was…before we fell—many millennia before that. Before Lucifer fell, even,” he mused quietly. “I loved to watch the Earth, but I also loved to spend time with my brothers and sisters. Balthazar and I were in trouble more often than not and Anael had to save us from punishment. Uriel was much more…carefree.” He smiled, but it looked too sad. “But I truly loved to spend time with my older brother, Gabriel. I miss him.”

 

“Gabriel?” Those years in church weren’t for nothing, despite what people thought about him. He paid attention sometimes. “Don’t tell me you mean the Gabriel that told Mary that she was, y’know? You don’t mean that one, do you?”

 

“Hmm,” Castiel nodded. “Uriel may be the funniest angel in the garrison, but Gabriel was surely the funniest angel in all of heaven. Humanity refers to Lucifer as the _light bringer_ , but I believe that Gabriel shone the brightest. It seemed like with the archangels, they stood above the rest of us, but him…he cared about his younger siblings—me, included. I…if angels could love, then I definitely loved him.”

 

Wow. Dean never ever thought that Castiel would reveal this much about himself, especially to someone like Dean. “What happened to him?” He couldn’t help but ask.

 

“No one knows.” He breathed out. “Gabriel looked up to Lucifer much like the way I looked up to Gabriel himself. Other than Michael, he was hit hardest when Lucifer fell. One day, Gabriel went to Earth and he vanished. We searched every corner of the universe, but no one, not even Michael or Raphael, could find him. With how much time that’s passed, we assume he’s dead.”

 

It dawned on Dean that, yeah, most of them had sticks up their asses, but the angels that ruled over the Earth were a whole lot like one _huge_ dysfunctional family. Castiel had said _if angels could love_ , but he had a funny feeling that they could, in a way, and maybe didn’t understand it. Or maybe it was just Castiel that felt love. He seemed to be about the only angel that was truly _different_ from the rest. Dean couldn’t help but feel a burst of warmth in his chest when he thought about how lucky he was have Castiel on his side.

 

Dean moved his hand over so that it would touch Castiel’s, as if that small physical touch would comfort the angel in some way. “I’m sorry, Cas. I wish I could make life or whatever it is you have easier for you. You don’t deserve half the shit you’ve had to put up with.”

 

Then, Castiel turned his head to look at Dean head-on and since when the hell did Castiel look so damn pretty? Pretty enough that Dean had to hold back the urge to reach up and run his thumb across the bottom of those luscious pink lips? “Thank you, Dean. That means very much to me.” He mumbled and Dean almost hadn’t heard it because he was so focused on how those lips moved. There was another surge of warmth that spread throughout his body and it wasn’t exactly affection nor did it spread in his chest. “You’re a very good friend.” He must’ve realized what he said and it took Dean to process it himself since he never expected Castiel to admit he saw Dean as an actual friend. The angel immediately balked and fumbled to say, “I didn’t mean to assume—I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that to you.”

 

“Dude,” Dean cleared his throat and tried not to blush. “Shut up. We’re friends. You don’t have to go and give yourself a heart attack over me, okay?”

 

“Friends,” he breathed the word out as if he didn’t repeat it then it would vanish from between them. “I’m very honored that you would consider me a friend, Dean.”

 

Dean swallowed thickly and nodded. “I should be more honored, right? I mean…it’s a pretty huge deal for some little human like me to be friends with a friggin’ angel, y’know?” He rubbed the back of his neck and made a point to stare at the fire until his eyes hurt. “I…should probably say sorry since I was pretty pissy with you at the start of this whole deal. I just didn’t…” He tried to find the least offensive way to explain the fact that he wanted to stab any angel in the throat.

 

“You didn’t trust me.” Castiel explained for him. “I understand. Sometimes I don’t trust us…well, certain brothers—” he audibly snapped his mouth shut and looked around carefully before he continued. “And you’re not some little human, Dean. As I’ve told you before, you’re a very amazing man. You have such a beautiful soul. I’ll be sad to not see it anymore once you and Sam have been cleared.”

 

The human tried not to be upset about the fact that soon, Castiel would have to leave him. No. He would have to leave him _and_ Sam and Jessica. He would return to heaven where he would be miserable and if Dean had any say in the matter, he would make sure the angel would sit around all day and watch bees or whatever the hell he wanted to.

 

Oh, God, he sounded like new-relationship-Sam, again.

 

“I’m sure there are a lot more beautiful than mine in heaven, Cas. Maybe you can watch one of them.” He smiled a little sadly and looked up to the stars. “Y’know, I bet my mom’s soul is a hell of a lot more beautiful than mine.”

 

“Mary Winchester,” Dean didn’t turn to stare at Castiel, but he could feel him shift beside him. “I haven’t seen her soul personally, but, yes, I’m sure it is very beautiful in its own way.” He turned to look at Castiel who then smiled fondly. “But I think I would still prefer yours.”

 

And it was almost instinctive when he retorted with a coy smirk and said, “You keep up with that and you might get lucky tonight, Cas.” Fuck, fuck, fuck, did he actually say that out loud? What the hell? Oh, shit there was a circle in hell for someone that flirted with a damn angel of the Lord.

 

Thank God that it flew over his head because he cocked his head to the side and squinted. “Get lucky how? I don’t understand.”

 

Dean was thankfully able to wave it off. “Just…never mind, man,” his face was red and his heart raced in his chest. “We really need to work on your people skills before you head back to heaven. Maybe next time you’re down here, you won’t be such an awkward dork.”

 

“I understood that.” Castiel scowled at him, but his blue eyes twinkled with amusement. “You shouldn’t insult an _angel_ , Dean. I’m sure you’re aware that I could bury you with little effort.”

 

 _Bury me into the mattress_ , he couldn’t help but think and sweet Jesus he hoped that Castiel respected him enough not to listen to his thoughts. The way that Castiel’s voice had dropped an octave when he mockingly threatened Dean had gone straight to his dick. Fuck, he almost wanted to tell Castiel to leave or occupy himself with some stupid chore because he needed some serious self-love. All he could think about was how _powerful_ Castiel would be in bed, how he could hold Dean down with his pinky, probably. He shouldn’t have found that so fucking hot, but then again, he did have some serious issues. What Winchester didn’t?

 

“Yeah, but then you’d never see my pretty soul ever again, so who’d be the real loser, huh?” He shoved at Castiel’s arm and then closed his legs a little more than before. He wasn’t hard, but he really didn’t trust his dick at this point.

 

Fuck, as soon as they were done with this hunt, he _really_ needed to get laid.

 

***

 

As it would turn out, it was a hell of a lot harder than he expected to find someone to share a bed with him. No matter what the church believed, people still had sex. It was only when the sex broke the law that it became a real problem and even then, the angels weren’t too preoccupied with most of those cases. So, there were plenty of people that he could choose from, but it…never really happened.

 

Once their hunt was over with and they made it back home, safe and sound, he decided he would head to one of those secret clubs that the angels probably knew about but didn’t really care about until it broke one of their serious rules or became the headquarters for a resistance movement. He heard through the grapevine that once in a while, some church goer would try to shut them down, but it never really happened.

 

So, over the next couple of days, he just rested. If there was a hunt, Sam and Bobby took care of it instead since they knew he was probably exhausted from all the hunts. Really, it was only a hassle to drive around for hours at a time since, as said before, Castiel did most of the work now. And, plus, he really needed to spend time with Jessica since he felt like he never really saw her anymore except in passing. So, it was obvious that he wouldn’t have time to hit up a club.

 

And then Jessica had a streak of late shifts and it seemed like the perfect time for him to head out to the club. But Castiel would always show up after a meet-n’-greet with Zachariah and those happened a whole lot more lately and they never left him happy and, well, shit, how could he let Castiel wallow in misery while Dean went out to find someone to stick a dick in his ass? It seemed unfair, especially since the dude admitted that he saw Dean as a friend which he probably didn’t have a lot of anymore—except Uriel which Dean would never understand how he saw that prick as a _friend_.

 

Finally, _finally_ , it happened. Jessica had to work, Sam was out with Bobby on a supply run that would take a day or two, and Castiel informed Dean that he needed to help his garrison with some work that would take the whole night. It was the _perfect goddamn time_ , but when Castiel appeared a few minutes before Dean was about to head out to let him know he was leaving to help the garrison, he looked _pissed_. And, yeah, you have to work with dickheads like Zachariah and Uriel and you wouldn’t be a happy camper, either. When he appeared and disappeared and his trench coat would flutter with the wind that Dean always assumed came because of his wings. There was this aggravated scowl etched onto his face and his voice was so much more gravely than usual.

 

 _Holy fuck_ it was so _hot_. All he could think about after Castiel left was how awesome it would be if he used Dean to vent some of that stress, just shoved him over the back of the couch and pounded into him. Or they could head up to his bedroom and Dean would bet that Castiel could keep him pinned down with one hand, push his face into the mattress and give it to him rough, just the way Dean loved it. He bet that Castiel would be able to hit that sweet spot with every thrust. And, of fucking course, he wondered after that how huge Castiel’s cock was. Who the hell could try to hook up with someone else when all they could think about was how much they wanted some angel to fuck them?

 

After Dean had rubbed one out in the shower, he actually _sulked_ because, whether Castiel knew about it or not, he was a total cock block and that wasn’t fair. He knew it’d be over once Castiel left which then spiraled into Dean thinking about the fact that he really didn’t want the angel to leave him. _No, mother fucker_ , it’s _them_ , not _him_ , he repeated over and over.

 

If Castiel found Dean curled up with a bottle of homemade moonshine that some farmer handed over to him and Sam after they rid his house of a poltergeist, he never said a word about it the next morning.

 

Once Sam and Bobby made it back home and Jessica returned to her day shifts, Dean never had another chance to make it to the bar.

 

*******

 

It should’ve dawned on someone that shit would hit the fan sooner rather than later. Their lives had been too nice and Dean, of all people, should’ve realized that fact sooner. He should’ve braced for the crash that was bound to happen. God, he should’ve warned Sam to hold onto Jessica a little bit more and maybe he would’ve actually went to the bar and found some nice body to curl up with one last time, even if there was a ninety percent chance he’s blurt out Castiel’s name in the middle of it, because it was bound to happen. It was the Winchester curse. Happy never ever lasted with them.

 

Dean should’ve known, goddamn it, especially when Sam came into the kitchen after church, somber as he told everyone at the table that, “Pastor Jim is dead.”


	6. Spoilers! Bad Shit Happens!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Did you honestly think shit wouldn't hit the fan? What fandom are _you_ in?

Whoever murdered Pastor Jim had moved his body to the old church that he used to preach at and if that wasn’t the straw that broke the camel’s back. Dean would _slit_ the bastard’s throat whenever they found _it,_ since the police found some sulfur at the scene of the crime. Neither of them said it since they had no idea who could be listening in on their conversation, but both of them knew that it could’ve been because of his involvement in the resistance. Pastor Jim didn’t seem like the type, but he could’ve sold his soul to a demon. But from what they’d heard from Bobby and Ellen, with Castiel so close to home, they’d kept the resistance activity down to almost none, so unless the Pastor's time ran out—which it shouldn't have—it couldn't have been because of that.

 

The Impala pulled up at the broken down church and there was still some yellow tape around the place, but other than that and Castiel on the front steps, it was abandoned. Armed with holy water, salt-loaded shells in the barrels of their shotguns, and some paint for any last minute devil’s traps, they approached the angel who looked like he’d just sucked on a sour lemon.

 

“Uh, you okay, Cas?” Sam asked carefully.

 

“The stench of a demon is all over this church.” He explained and his nose scrunched up for a second before his expression fell flat. “I went to examine the corpse and I apologize if that was inappropriate. I wanted to make it one less trip for you and given your relationship with Jim Murphy, I—”

 

“It’s okay, Cas.” Dean cut him off and ran his hand through his hair. “What’d you find?”

 

“The cause of death wasn’t…very _demon-y_.” He actually used air quotes and Dean wanted to slap himself on the forehead, but the time didn’t seem right. “His throat had been sliced. No hellhounds were involved. His body hadn’t been abnormally twisted to indicate a demon used their power over him. One would almost think that a human had murdered him had there not been sulfur on his body.”

 

Sam’s brows knitted together in confusion. “Did you check out the church?”

 

“I did.” Castiel nodded. “And, again, other than the sulfur, nothing seems to have been touched. But you knew him better, so maybe there were some kind of…secrets hidden that a demon would find valuable?”

 

From what he’d heard, none of this murder made sense to him and it probably didn’t make sense to Sam, either. No hellhounds were involved, so Pastor Jim hadn’t made a deal and ran out of time. He led a resistance, so unless another demon wanted his soul for more information, there was no reason a demon would kill him.

 

“I don’t know.” Dean groaned angrily and rubbed his hand over his face. “Maybe we can check the church out some more. The dude looked after us, but we didn’t know that much about his personal life, so who the hell knows? Maybe he knew some shit that a demon didn’t want him to know?”

 

“I think we should definitely check it out.” Sam agreed and glanced at Castiel. “Do you want to come in with us? If you’re uncomfortable with the sulfur, you can stay out here while we scope it out.”

 

Castiel shook his head. “Thank you, Sam, but I’ve dealt with much worse than this. I’ll be fine.”

 

“Let’s move then.” Dean grunted and stormed toward the entrance of the church.

 

***

 

Dean didn’t expect there to be much personal crap in the church because when the Pastor decided to leave, he took his life with him. The old church always rubbed him in a bad way, anyway, because it reminded him about how much his life used to revolve around God before it was stripped away from him. It had been by choice, sure, but he was always upset with how the angels sent everything out of whack. There had been an office in the basement, but there wasn’t much in there that could help them out.

 

“I don’t get it, man. Why would he come back here?” Dean grumbled as they made their way back toward the sanctuary. “This doesn’t make any sense. This smells funky, Sam.”

 

“I know.” The brunet breathed out and shook his head. “We can check his house out back in town. I’m sure there’s more there…” He trailed off and stopped when they reached the sanctuary. Then, he looked over toward the altar, more specifically the podium where the Pastor used to speak. “Huh,” he huffed under his breath and walked over to it.

 

Dean and Castiel looked between one another, but let Sam do his work. Dean always did say that Sam was the brains of the operation and there was a reason for that. Dean had his moments now and then, but Sam figured crap out a hell of lot quicker than Dean ever could. He’d never believe it when Sam or Jessica or Bobby or even Castiel lately told him that he was smarter because he wasn’t. Not compared to everyone else.

 

“What the hell is this?” Sam asked and, from underneath the podium, he pulled out a…jar?

 

The other two in their trio then walked over to stand around Sam and examine the jar. To Dean, it looked pretty ancient, actually. It looked like one of those ancient pottery jars that he saw in textbooks back in school or on some old documentaries that Jessica loved to watch every now and then. But at least he was sure that the Pastor didn’t have the money for some overseas trip, so there was no way that it could’ve been there.

 

“I need to see that.” Castiel said urgently and literally snatched the jar from Sam who blinked in shock. The dark-haired man examined the contents of the jar before he looked up at them, panicked. “This is holy oil.”

 

“Holy oil?” both Winchesters chorused at the same time.

 

“It’s very special, very rare. When the oil burns, no angel can touch or pass through the flames or they die.” He looked between them. “Only another angel or a demon could acquire this. A demon can’t be far from here. We need to leave _now_.”

 

When an _angel_ was spooked and told you to run, it was best to turn tail and run and not ask any questions and that was exactly what Dean and Sam did. It would’ve helped, though, if some invisible force hadn’t tossed both brothers into the walls on each end of the sanctuary.

 

It was pretty bad when someone could say that they recovered quick from a hit against the wall, but Dean unfortunately…or fortunately, he guessed, was able to admit that he could recover from it. So, he shakily stood back up on his feet and looked back over at Castiel who now had a dark-haired woman in front of him. Dressed in all black, she smiled darkly at him and batted her lashes while she purred, “Hello, handsome.” Just as he brandished a silver blade, she dropped a match onto the floor and a ring of fire erupted up from the floor.

 

Fuck their lives. They had just walked into a trap. But, hey, at least they had some holy water and he was almost positive that it could act as a holy oil douser.

 

“Howdy, kiddos,” another masculine voice called out from behind them.

 

Both Sam and Dean walked toward the middle of the altar where Castiel was trapped then turned around to face the new presence in the room. It was an older man with a thinning hair line, but Dean barely noticed that because all he could focus on were those cloudy yellow eyes that made him feel like they were boring holes into his skin. Faintly, in the back of his head, he could hear the drunken whispers of his father. “ _Sold my soul to some yellow-eyed demon, son. I hope you never see those eyes. They’ll haunt you for the rest of your life.”_

 

“ _You_ killed Pastor Jim?” Sam snarled from beside his older brother.

 

“Technically it was my sweet daughter behind you that did it.” The yellow-eyed demon pointed out and Dean looked over his shoulder at the female demon who merely winked at him. “We needed your attention and it’s not like I can kill your daddy twice.” Dean’s head snapped around at that and the demon moved his head back and forth. “Okay, it was _technically_ my hounds, but you get the point.”

 

From behind them, Castiel hissed, “ _Azazel_.”

 

Azazel smiled and bowed quickly. “That’d be me. And you’re the little bird that’s been on the Winchesters asses, aren’t you?” He smirked. “Sorry, but I need to talk with the boys here and you were in my way,” he pulled a face. “I don’t like confrontation.”

 

“What do you want?” Dean barked.

 

“No need for the hostility, Dean-oh.” The demon shot back coolly. “I’m here to strike a deal with you, of course. Someone has to fill the shoes your daddy left behind and Pastor Jimbo wasn’t exactly fit for the job.” He started to walk toward them. “I don’t care who does it. Oh, you could both make a deal and get twice the secrets, though. And it doesn’t hurt one bit. Not until your decade is up, but, hey, it’s for the best, right?”

 

“How ‘bout this for an answer, pal,” Dean sneered. “ _Fuck you_.”

 

Azazel shook his head and chuckled. “Dean, Dean, Dean,” he drawled. “What about your dear old daddy? Or what about your mommy?” he pointed over at Castiel. “John and I…well, we spent a lot of time with each other. I like to think I learned a lot about him during that time. He hated the angels, Dean, because they took sweet Mary away from him and you boys. That’s what made him come to me. Aren’t you the littlest bit mad about that? Don’t you want a little payback? And now they’re on your backs and you’re not even in the resistance. Daddy was, but you’ve both been too good for that, huh?”

 

“Shut up.” Dean shouted. “Our father was an obsessed bastard. You don’t dump the kinda crap he put on us on your kids. I loved that man, but I swore I’d never make the same mistakes he did. And don’t you ever pull my mom into this shit." Dean had  _loved her so damn much_ , but he knew, unlike John, that she never would have wanted them to avenge her death if it meant their souls.

 

Sam immediately took over for him. “Talk as much as you want, but no dice. We’ll never make a deal.”

 

Dean fully expected there to be more supernatural throws to the wall because the dude didn’t seem like the one to take no for an answer, but he merely hummed and smirked darkly at them—a trait, Dean noticed, that ran in the demonic family. “I can appreciate your spirit, kids.” He winked. “But I’m pretty sure you’ll come around sooner or later, so you know how to find me.”

 

Apparently, his daughter didn’t like the fact that daddy let up as easy as he did. “But Father—”

 

“Time to leave, sweetheart,” Azazel told her, all smiles, but there was a threat underneath it that she needed to listen to his order or there would be hell to pay.

 

And then they just…left. They vanished and no one moved for a few moments, as if they would pop back in the church and torture everyone until someone made a deal, but the church remained emptied of all demons. Dean slowly inched toward the ring of holy fire and tossed his flask of holy water onto the circle.

 

“Thank you.” Castiel muttered as he stepped over the charred ring. “I think it would be best for you to leave before Azazel decides to return.” He looked down at the floor, clearly disturbed. “I need to leave. I have to speak with Zachariah immediately and inform him about this.”

 

“Don’t strain yourself, Castiel. Here I am.”

 

And now they had to deal with the angels.

 

Dean’s day just got better and better.

 

***

 

As soon as Zachariah’s voice echoed across the sanctuary, Castiel’s entire body tensed and he stood up to his full height, as if he were a soldier being addressed by a commanding officer which was basically what it was like except with more…feathers. Dean noticed that, behind their superior, Uriel stood and he looked so smug that it made his stomach twist around into a knot. Something wasn't right. There was no way that the angels would show up so soon after the demons left. There had to be  _something_ going on...even if it didn't make sense because angels and demons hated each other, right?

 

“Zachariah,” Castiel stepped forward, all seriousness. “The demon Azazel was here. I believe we should alert the rest of the garrison about this. Perhaps we could find where he’s hidden and stop him before he can hurt anymore humans.”

 

“Oh, I know about Azazel.” Zachariah had the nerve to tilt his head up a little and stare down at them. “I’ve known about him the whole time, Castiel. Azazel was the demon John Winchester sold his soul to.” He then looked between Sam and Dean. “So, boys, you must’ve made one hell of a deal not to sell your souls. What’s Azazel’s plan, hmm? What does he want from you?”

 

Before either Winchester could speak up, Castiel took another, more confident step forward. “Neither Dean or Sam are a part of the resistance. I can confirm this without a doubt. Azazel tried to offer them a deal and both turned him down. They are innocent on all charges.”

 

Uriel spoke up and stared at his brother with an expression mixed with fury and disgust. “You’ve been compromised, Castiel.”

 

“I’m not—”

 

“Oh, yes, you are, and you’ll have a long chat with both Raphael and Naomi when we return to heaven.” Zachariah sneered with blatant revulsion. “How could I trust your opinion when you’ve shared state secrets?” It didn’t seem possible, but Castiel stiffened even more than before. “Yes, Castiel, we know about it. Maybe you’ve sided with Lucifer and his abominations. Is that why you’ve turned a blind eye to their activities or is it because of your little crush on them?”

 

“Or maybe I’ve decided that I should question my so-called _orders_ ,” Castiel bravely shot back.

 

The older man stared at him in surprise and Uriel snarled. “Tell me, brother, how this makes you any different from Lucifer. He questioned the orders our Father set down, as well.” He walked forward and stood in front of Castiel. “Don’t do this. Do you want to fall?”

 

“Would that be so horrible? To become like Anael?” he whispered.

 

Uriel looked like he had been visibly slapped. Zachariah, on the other hand, looked fed up. “I’m done with this. Uriel, return Castiel to heaven. Raphael can deal with him.” He craned his neck from side to side and it looked like he was getting out the kinks. “I’ll deal with these two. Shouldn’t be too hard,” he mused. “So, what do you want today, boys? Want to see how long the human body can last without a set of lungs because I do.”

 

There was a sudden hiss of pain that came from Uriel and Castiel suddenly darted past Dean and Sam with that same silver blade in his hand. Dean quickly looked over his shoulder and watched Uriel press his hand over a slice in his stomach that actually bled light. Zachariah straightened up and started to stalk toward them, very visibly pissed off, so Dean did what he did best and aimed his shotgun at the commanding angel. It wouldn’t hurt them, but, hell, maybe it could slow them down. Sam followed his lead and the both of them continued to shoot at both Uriel and Zachariah while they backed up to meet Castiel at the podium.

 

“Castiel, don’t you dare—”

 

Dean was only able to catch a quick look at Castiel who was hunched in front of the podium, but he saw the red sigil being drawn across the wood. Then, with determination in his blue eyes, Castiel looked back at Zachariah in defiance before he slammed his hand onto the symbol. A flash of white lit up the entire room and momentarily blinded Dean. There were pained yells and when the light cleared away, every single angel in the church was gone.

 

“What the hell was that?” Sam breathed out when they both recovered.

 

“That was that special sigil that can banish angels.” He ran a hand over his face and shook his head. “Dude, Zach won’t be happy. We need to leave. We need to find someplace to hide out for a while. Is Jess at the hospital?”

 

Dean knew that it wasn’t what Sam wanted to hear, but it had to be done and the brunet knew it. “No. I think she’s been home all day today.”

 

“C’mon,” he started to run toward the doors on the other end of the sanctuary. “We have to tell Bobby and Ellen about this, too. I wouldn’t put it past that dick to try and go after them to get through us.”

 

***

 

There wasn’t too much that Dean could remember from when he was four, but what he could, his mother was always in the memory. But the one memory that was still crystal clear decades later had been that damned fire. Well, it had been an explosion from a crash, but the house had still been on fire. And he would always wonder if he was just fucked up or if it was the human mind that made all those happy memories a little too fuzzy while the most horrible moments remained pristine.

 

Dean never would’ve imagined that he would see the same house on fire a second time and that another woman he loved with all his heart would be inside.

 

Sam was out of the Impala before it even parked and Dean almost wanted to launch himself out of the door rather than take the time to do it himself. He could hear his little brother scream for Jessica as he scrambled into the front door and Dean had to breathe through his sudden panic. He could remember how his father had told him to hold onto Sam while he ran inside the house and little four-year-old Dean had been so terrified no one would come back out. Turned out, it had just been one parent to make it back out.

 

Before Dean darted inside after his brother, he looked up toward the window to the room that Sam and Jessica shared. There, in the window, was the shape of a woman. Before flames cascaded up and swallowed up the intruder, he saw the woman look down at him, but couldn’t see any more details before she disappeared. A second later, that window exploded.

 

Oh, God, he knew what it meant. There was no chance that Jessica could make it out alive. It wasn’t just the smoke that put tears in his eyes the moment he sprinted into their house. Sam continued to scream for Jessica, but Dean knew that it was too late. Fuck, fuck, fuck…he couldn’t lose Sam, either.

 

Heat licked at every inch of Dean that it could while he ran toward the bedroom. When he rushed inside, his eyes landed on the ceiling where there was the definite outline of a female body surrounded by fire and, oh God no, this couldn’t happen. It just couldn’t…not to sweet, awesome Jessica. No, no, no.

 

“Sam!” Dean screamed and wrapped an arm around his brother’s taller form. “Sammy, we have to leave! We have to let the police handle it! I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He repeated over and over as he forced his little brother out of the room and out of the house while he thrashed in Dean’s arms. “Goddamn it. I’m so sorry, Sam. I’m so goddamn sorry.” He choked out.

 

They made it to the Impala before Sam broke down and screamed.

 

***

 

It was hard to believe that their entire lives could be uprooted in less than a few hours. As soon as Dean made it to Bobby’s old house that used to be a junkyard, he had to reach across the seat and crush his brother to his chest because it was all they could do. Shit, heaven or hell could pop up on them any second, but he couldn’t care because he loved her, too. God, he had loved her so damn much and it wasn’t _fair_.

 

Around ten minutes into their embrace, there was a loud thud on the hood of the Impala and both men whirled their heads around to stare at the dark-haired man now sprawled across the front of the car. Dean scrambled out of his seat and almost threw himself at Castiel had he not wanted to hurt him more and, man, he looked like he was in bad shape.

 

“I can put up wards.” The angel gritted out while he shoved a hand over his own glowing wound that stretched across his abdomen. “We should go inside now.” Then, he looked around and must’ve noticed how they were one person less because he asked, “Where’s Jessica?”

 

Sam was still in the car, thank fuck, but it didn’t stop Dean from letting out a shaky breath. “She…she didn’t make it, Cas.” He choked out. “Someone…they set the house on fire. We…we were too late and…”

 

It could've been because of that wound, but Castiel looked pained at the news and, for a second, it seemed like he was about to cry. After a few silent seconds, though, he put on that same determined expression he wore back in the church. “Then it is even more important to protect the people she loved most.”

 

***

 

Sam was a lot more pliable than Dean expected, but he was pretty sure that was the shock that had started to set in. Well, he would use whatever he could to make his little brother move into the old house. Castiel had already went inside to start putting up the wards and Dean was more than a little worried because those were supposed to keep angels out. What would happen to an angel inside them? He would make sure to ask Castiel about it later.

 

“You need to sleep, Sam.” Dean told his brother thickly as he led him up to the old master bedroom. “We can…we’ll figure this all out tomorrow.” He explained as he helped move Sam to sit on the bed, but with a blank look on his face, it didn’t look like he would move unless he was forced to. “Sammy, you have to sleep. Do it for Jess, okay?” He whispered and touched his brother’s cheek for a moment before he leaned back up to his full height.

 

The mention of Jessica made Sam stir, but it didn’t take the blank look off his face. Rather, he leaned back onto the bed and stared up at the wall above him. Dean knew that it was the best Sam could do and he was a damned hypocrite because he wouldn’t take care of himself, either. No matter how much they both lost, how much you’d think they would be used to loss, the grief never got any easier.

 

“Call me if you need me,” Dean whispered as he closed the door behind him.

 

And maybe the shock had started to set in on him, too, because his movements felt mechanical and all he wanted to do was curl up in a bed and keep there until the end of the world. It seemed like a better option, honestly. He only made it down the steps before any more moving seemed too exhausting and he plopped down there at the foot of the staircase.

 

Dean had no idea how much time passed before Castiel found him there and he had no idea when the hell he started to sob like a baby, but he did. For someone that was so awkward, he didn’t fumble around with how to make Dean feel better. Instead, he dropped down beside Dean and moved in as close as two full grown men could be on a staircase.

 

“I’ll be here in any way that you need me to be, Dean.” Castiel informed him.

 

That should’ve made him feel better, but all he could think about was how Sam didn’t have someone to curl up beside anymore and there were even more tears. It was hard not to feel guilty when he leaned out to bury his face into Castiel’s chest and croak out a weak, “Put your arm around me.” And it was kind of nice when he wrapped an arm around Dean’s shoulders because he could bury himself into the angel as much as physically possible.

 

“I’m sorry.” The man above him suddenly sighed sadly. “I should have been there sooner. Maybe I could have saved her. No one—Jessica didn’t deserve that kind of death.” He pressed his face into Dean’s hair and took a deep breath. “I’m not sure I can ever understand how much you’ve lost today.”

 

It took him another few minutes, but finally he was able to stop crying long enough to say, “You don’t have to say sorry, Cas. None of this is your fault.” He laughed with as much bitterness as he had. “You should be happy you can’t feel this… _shit_. Still want to be a human?”

 

“I will be.” Castiel answered after a few tense beats. Dean reeled back from his embrace and stared at his friend in confusion. “I rebelled, Dean. I…I can’t feel it yet, but soon I’ll start to fall. Once I’ve fallen completely, I’ll be a human.”

 

“What?” Dean nearly yelled and could’ve shaken Castiel, he was so mad. “Why the hell would you do that, Cas? That sounds…really fucking bad. What the hell, man?”

 

Castiel looked at him, dead in the eye again, and had no hint of doubt in his eyes when he said, “I believed in you and your brother more than I’ve believed in my own kind for centuries.”

 

What the hell were you supposed to say to that? What could someone possibly say to an angel when that celestial being admitted that the reason he decided falling from the good graces of heaven was totally worth it because he believed in _you_? There wasn’t a damn thing, that’s what, because it took your breath away. It left you, some tiny, insignificant protozoa, feeling like you were the center of someone’s universe which consisted of billions of galaxies and suns.

 

Whatever it was that exploded inside of him was too damn much to hold back and he reached out to wrap a hand around the back of Castiel’s neck before he pulled him forward to crush their lips together. He had no idea if the angel even knew how to kiss, but goddamn it, if he died tomorrow—which was a pretty good possibility at that point—he wanted to make sure he had kissed that fucking angel of the Lord.

 

Maybe Castiel experienced more emotions than he let on because it seemed like his own floodgates had been unleashed, too. His hand slithered around to the back of Dean’s neck and he returned the kiss so fiercely that it took Dean by surprise. When his other hand went around to his lower back, Castiel suddenly pushed him down so that he hovered over Dean, and had him pressed into the stairs. It would kill his back later, but holy hell, where did Castiel learn how to do that?

 

Dean suddenly wrapped his hands around the lapels of that tan trench coat before he started to try to move them off Castiel’s shoulders. All he desperately needed was more physical contact, more naked skin to touch, and why the hell did _Castiel wear so many layers_? But Castiel went completely still underneath Dean’s touch and he was scared that he had went too far in such little time. The dark-haired man leaned away from him, eyes still closed but panting. Then, his eyes flew open and he stared at Dean in horror.

 

Then, so quietly that Dean had to strain to hear it, Castiel whispered, “ _And it is written that the first seal shall be broken when a righteous man sheds blood in Hell. As he breaks, so shall it break._ ” It scared Dean how horrified Castiel looked. “The first seal has been broken.”

 

“Maybe I’m a dumb fuck, but what happens when all the seals break? Whatever the hell they are?” Dean questioned weakly.

 

“Then Lucifer walks free and the apocalypse will be upon us.”

 

And here the biggest thing Dean thought he would have to worry about was the fact that he had just made out with an angel of the Lord who he may or may not have started having feelings for and the fact that his little brother’s fiancée had just been murdered probably by a demon.

 

“Fuck.”

 

 

 

**TO BE CONTINUED**


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